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LET POLLY DO IT 


By Amy Wentworth Stone 

P-PENNY AND HIS LITTLE RED CART 
HERE’S JUGGINS 
TREASURE FOR DEBBY 
LET POLLY DO IT 
















AMY WENTWORTH STONE 

U 


Illustrated by 


MARGARET AYER 



BOSTON 
NEW YORK 


J^atJ>rap, and §Kepar<{ Campatuj 

1937 




2 - ^ 



Copyright 1937 

BY LOTHROP, LEE AND SHEPARD COMPANY 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be re¬ 
produced in any form without permission in writing 
from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes 
to quote brief passages in connection with a review 
written for inclusion in magazine or newspaper. 



* 



U3> 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

SEP 11 1937 

£)CIA 109 694 , 

C'V 


To 

SEYMOUR H. STONE 


s 










CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Under Way.11 

II. Business Booms . . . .25 

III. A Conquest. 39 

IV. Plans Awry . 56 

V. Put Off Until To-morrow . . 68 

VI. Where, Oh, Where? . . .81 

VII. Midsummer Nightmare . . .95 

VIII. Polly Perplexed . . . .106 

IX. Marking Time.121 

X. Somebody Makes a Break . . 134 

XI. One Thing After Another . .147 

XII. More Cats for Polly . . .160 

XIII. Other Cats Let Out of Bags . 173 

XIV. Polly Hears an Explanation . 185 

XV. A Refusal. 196 

XVI. Polly Measures Up . . .208 

XVII. Polly Can Do It . . . .219 


IX 





Chapter One 

UNDER WAY 

P olly,” said Miss Henrietta Stebbins, standing at 
the top of the steps under the portico, "'do you 
have to stay right out there in front? Couldn’t you 
clean that disreputable old car just as well somewhere 
at the back of the house?” 

Polly Stebbins stepped around from the other side 
of the Ford. She wore a working blouse and slacks 
and a jaunty cap on her boyish bob, and she held a 
paint pot in her hand. 

*Tm almost through, Aunt Retta,” she called. 
"Don’t come too near the edge of the steps, will 

•\ j j 

you? 

Ever since Miss Henrietta had broken her hip last 
spring, Polly and Aunt Nell had been in constant 
terror lest she fall again, for Miss Henrietta had al¬ 


ii 




12 


LET POLLY DO IT 


ways been active and independent, and never inclined 
to accept help. She was still stately, even on crutches, 
thought Polly, looking up at the tall, aristocratic fig¬ 
ure under the portico. 

Miss Henrietta, on her part, eyed the slacks and 
the dingy Ford dubiously from the top of the steps. 
Nobody in the world but Polly could have made Miss 
Henrietta tolerate such things for a moment in front 
of the dignified old Stebbins mansion, but Polly, ever 
since the day nine years ago when she and her sister 
Debby had come to Bellport to live with their great- 
aunts, had always known how to wheedle Aunt Retta. 

"Has the mail come?” said Miss Henrietta, disre¬ 
garding the slacks for the time being. 

"No, Aunt Retta,” said Polly, "HI bring it in when 
it does.” 

As soon as she saw that Miss Henrietta was safely 
through the screen door again, Polly went around 
to the other side of the Ford, and recommenced 
touching up the rusty spots with the black paint. 
It really was a disreputable vehicle, admitted Polly 
to herself, but then, it had cost only ten dollars and 
it would serve her purpose nicely. She had already 
made five dollars since she bought it, and now she 
was going to enlarge her business. It was time, by 
the way, that Zab Eaton brought back those cards 
which he was printing for her. Polly looked up from 
her work long enough to glance in the direction of 
the Eatons’ house, which stood just beyond the Steb- 


UNDER WAY 


13 


bins mansion. Zab, however, was nowhere to be seen. 
Then she heard approaching footsteps on the side¬ 
walk behind her and turned quickly. It was not Zab, 
however, but her tall cousin, George Jones, who was 
coming up the hill from the little town, very gay 
and debonair in faultless yachting clothes. 

"Well, whatever blew you in here again?” called 
Polly cheerfully. "I thought you were at Bar Harbor 
by this time.” 

'Tve been becalmed up the coast,” said George, 
"but there's a spanking breeze now, and I thought 
I’d just run back for a day. Want to go sailing?” 

Polly, paint pot still in hand, regarded her hand¬ 
some cousin. George did have a wonderful eighteen- 
footer. 

"No,” she said, after a moment’s consideration, 
"I can’t. I’ve got too much to do.” And she turned 
to the Ford again and resumed her painting. 

"But look here, Polly,” said George earnestly, "I 
came all the way back from Rockland just to take 
you out.” 

"Thanks a lot,” replied Polly promptly. "You al¬ 
ways were a goose. Besides, I told Ned Abbott I 
couldn’t go out in his motorboat today, and he might 
see us.” And she looked up long enough to grin at 
her cousin. 

"Is that dumbbell hanging around again?” said 
George, frowning a little. 

"Yes,” replied Polly indifferently. 


14 


LET POLLY DO IT 


Polly’s indifference was part of her charm, thought 
George, looking at his cousin. She certainly was not 
pretty, as Debby had been when she was seventeen. 
In the first place, Polly was too thin, including her 
face, with its ridiculous tip-tilted nose. Then her 
eyes were almost too black and sharp for comfort. 
What the deuce was it that made her so irresistible? 
Her teeth were fine, to be sure, when she smiled that 
funny little crooked smile of hers. Perhaps it was the 
smile, which was unlike any other that George had 
ever seen, and her zest for a good time with anybody 
—anybody, that was, who was not sentimental! Polly 
never would be sentimental. 

"Oh, by the way,” she said, looking up suddenly 
from the Ford, "I almost forgot—I have that five 
dollars for you.” 

r 7 don’t want the five dollars back,” asserted George 
at once. 

"Well, you’re going to get it,” retorted Polly. 
"I’m awfully obliged for the loan, though. I couldn’t 
have paid the whole amount down on the Ford with¬ 
out it. But I’ve sold two kittens, and now I have the 
cash. Come on in and I’ll give it to you.” And she 
put down the paint pot, and walked around the Ford 
to the gate. 

"But I say,” protested George, making no move to 
follow Polly, "I don’t want that money. I think it’s 
bully of you to start in to-” 



UNDER WAY 


15 


"Sh!” said Polly, looking quickly behind her. 
' You’re not to breathe a word of that aloud, you 
know. I’m sorry now that I let you in on it. Nobody 
is to know a thing about it until next fall.” 

"All right,” said George, "Fm mum. But all the 
same I-” 

"If you’re so interested in the business, come on in 
and see the kittens,” said Polly, holding open the gate. 
And quite against his will, George followed Polly 
up the walk and into the house. 

No one, not even the happy-go-lucky George, 
ever came into the Stebbins mansion without feel¬ 
ing a sense of its beauty and dignity. The Sheratons 
and Heppelwhites and Chippendales that filled the 
high-studded old rooms, the treasures on wall and 
shelf and cabinet, that long ago had come straight 
from the Orient in Great-grandfather Stebbins’ clip¬ 
per ship—all contributed to make the Stebbins man¬ 
sion seem, what in truth it was, the most stately and 
rich of all the fine old houses of Bellport. 

But today George, as he followed Polly into the 
hall, gave slight attention to the beauties of the house. 
He was hoping that he should not meet Aunt Retta. 
Aunt Retta had a way of admonishing George when¬ 
ever she saw him, and George had been thoroughly 
admonished less than a week ago. He glanced a little 
nervously into the drawing-room as they went by, 
but the only face to be seen was that of beautiful 



16 


LET POLLY DO IT 


Great-grandmother Stebbins in the portrait over the 
mantel, who had for so many years looked down on 
the old room and filled it with a lovely presence. 
Rarely did one of her descendants go by the door 
of the drawing-room without glancing in for a mo¬ 
ment at Great-grandmother. 

Polly, however, looked neither to the right nor the 
left as she led the way through the hall and the big 
empty kitchen to the shed, stopping only long enough 
to pick up a pan of milk from the kitchen table. 

"I have quite a lot of them,” she said, opening the 
door, "and I know where I can get three more.” 

"Great guns!” said George, for as soon as they 
stepped into the shed a whirlwind of fluffy kittens 
came rushing from every direction, their fuzzy little 
pointed tails sticking straight up in the air. Polly, it 
seemed, was also irresistible to cats. Putting the pan 
of milk on the floor, she knelt down among the crowd¬ 
ing kittens, helping the smaller ones to find a place 
at the edge, and restraining the greedy from getting 
into the pan. 

"I never could have collected so many without the 
Ford,” said Polly, regarding them with satisfaction. 
"There are heaps of tourists around this summer. I 
shall put a sign on the front gate, saying Angora 
Kittens for Sale ” 

"What about Aunt Retta?” suggested George, 
doubtfully. 

"Oh, I’ll manage her,” Polly answered easily. 


UNDER WAY 


17 


*'Besides, I don’t see how you’ll make enough money 
to amount to much, even if you sell all the cats,” said 
George. 

"I’m going to do other things too, Wet Blanket,” 
Polly was crushing. "All the things in Bellport that 
people hate to do for themselves.” 

"What do you mean?” George asked. 

"Oh, everybody has something to do that gives 
them the fidgets. But I shan’t mind it if they’ll pay 
me.” 

"For instance?” George insisted. 

"Well*” Polly explained, "old Mrs. Brown out on 
the Thomaston road has a big bagful of worsted that 
she needs to have untangled. And Alice Crane has to 
play cribbage every day with her grandfather and 
let him beat, and she gets awfully tired of it.” 

While she was speaking Polly had walked across the 
shed, and taken down a broken bean-pot from a dusty 
shelf. Out of it she drew a five dollar bill. 

"Do you keep your cash lying around loose like 
that for anybody to pick up?” said George. 

"Nobody would ever look for money in a shed, 
and it says 'EXPLOSIVE’ on it.” Polly turned the 
bean-pot around, so that George could see the label, 
as she put it back on the shelf. "Besides,” she added, 
her black eyes on her cousin, "it’s better to keep 
money *wywhere than to spend every cent you’ve 
got on yachting caps and flannels. Come, take your 
five dollars, Good-for-Nothing. I’m awfully obliged, 


18 


LET POLLY DO IT 


but you’ll need it yourself before long.” Then, as 
George still hesitated, "If you don’t, I shall call Aunt 
Retta, and tell her you are here!” 

It certainly beat the Dutch, thought George, as he 
reluctantly put the bill in his pocket, how Polly al¬ 
ways guessed just what was in your mind. 

"Come on,” she said, pushing away the kittens, 
who had finished the milk and wanted to follow her. 
And she opened the door just wide enough for George 
and herself to slip through. 

"What’s that?” asked George, as they stepped from 
the kitchen into the hall. 

Polly grinned. There was the unmistakable sound 
of crutches upon the stair, and in a moment Miss 
Henrietta came around the newel post, attended by 
little Aunt Nell, who never allowed her sister to go 
up and down stairs alone. 

"Why, George!” said Aunt Retta, standing still 
in the hall, and looking in astonishment from under 
her level brows. "Where did you come from? We 
thought you were on the way to Frenchman’s Bay.” 
Then she turned toward the drawing-room, with 
Aunt Nell still at her side. "Come in here,” she 
admonished George, "I want to talk to you.” 

George looked around at Polly with a wry face 
over his shoulder, as he followed his aunts through 
the drawing-room door, and beckoned to her with 
pleading finger behind his back. But Polly only 
laughed. 


UNDER WAY 


19 


"I’ve got too much to do, Georgy-Porgy,” she 
said. "See you later.” 

Once outside, Polly stood for a moment under the 
portico, and looked across at the Eatons’. She fan¬ 
cied that she had caught sight of Zab’s blue overalls 
disappearing into the garage. Poor Zab, he had cer¬ 
tainly had a stroke of ill luck, and Polly was genu¬ 
inely sorry for her old playmate. He had wanted so 
much to go to the agricultural school, and had tried 
so hard for that scholarship. Polly could not get out 
of her mind how his funny freckled face had looked 
last week when he told her that he had missed out 
on the scholarship. He did not say that he would 
have to give up going to the school, but Polly had 
guessed it, for she knew that the Eatons had recently 
lost a good deal of money. She caught her breath a 
little as she thought of how she would feel if she had 
to give up her plans for the fall. Whatever would 
she do, if she found that she could not go to college 
in September! Polly had graduated from the Acad¬ 
emy in June, and was looking forward to college, 
and the chance to get out into the world, with an 
almost fierce desire. It seemed to her that she could 
hardly wait for the fall to come, and the great adven¬ 
ture to begin. Life at the Stebbins mansion with the 
aunts was not zestful, and Polly was without question, 
full of zest. 

As she stood under the portico, looking off through 
the elms over the little town below, with the familiar 


20 


LET POLLY DO IT 


river and woods and meadows beyond, all the quiet 
beauty of the scene was lost upon Polly, and she 
wished for a moment that she could throw a stone 
at the view and smash it. What would she not give 
to be Debby—away from it all, in Florence, Naples, 
Rome? Debby—it always made Polly a bit wistful 
to think of her sister, for the warmest place in Pol¬ 
ly’s heart was still kept for Debby, although it was 
four years since she and Eric had been married and had 
sailed away, to the work which had kept Eric so 
closely in Italy. More than once they had hoped and 
planned to come back for a visit, but always some¬ 
thing had interfered, and now, with little Eleanor, 
traveling was even more of a problem. But at last 
they were really coming home for a whole winter at 
the Stebbins mansion, where Eric would do some writ¬ 
ing, and Debby would keep Aunt Retta and Aunt 
Nell company while Polly went away to college. It 
might even be a little hard to go, when the time 
came, thought Polly, if Debby were there. But 
Sanbornville was only thirty miles away and there 
would be week-ends. 

They were looking daily now for the letter that 
should tell the date of sailing. How good it would 
be not to have to depend upon letters any more! 
For months writing to Debby had been difficult, be¬ 
cause there was so much that could not be mentioned, 
for Aunt Retta had decided that, since Debby was 


UNDER WAY 


21 


so soon to come home, it would be best not to worry 
her about the broken hip, or the doctor’s warning 
to Aunt Nell that she must go up and down the 
long stairs as little as possible. Sometimes her aunts 
seemed to her so frail that Polly was a little fright¬ 
ened, but Debby would be here in a few weeks, and 
then at last they could talk it all over. 

Polly’s rare mood of thought was interrupted by 
the reappearance of the blue overalls at the door of 
the Eatons’ garage. She whistled the particular call 
which she and Zab had used ever since they were 
children, and the figure in the overalls turned at once, 
and with a wave of the hand came loping across the 
lawn, taking the low hedge at a bound. For nine 
years, ever since Polly had first come to Bellport to 
live, Zab had seldom failed to respond faithfully to 
that whistle, or to do Polly’s bidding, whatever it 
might be. She walked slowly down the path, and by 
the time she reached the car, Zab was there before 
her, lanky and awkward, his red hair erect and rum¬ 
pled, his freckled face moist with his hurry. 

"Have you done the cards?” demanded Polly at 
once. 

"Yes,” said Zab, putting his hand in the large 
pocket of his overalls, "I was just coming over with 
them.” And he handed Polly a thick package, bound 
with an elastic. 

She ran a critical eye down the card. 


22 


LET POLLY DO IT 


LET POLLY DO IT 

Does it make you weep to peel your onions 
for dinner? 

Let Polly do it!_ for 10 <f. 

Do you like to see your dog all clean and 
fluffy? 

Let Polly do it!_ for a quarter 

Does your child have to go to the dentist? 

Let Polly do it!_for half a dollar 

When she had read to the bottom of the card Polly 
looked up and smiled. 

"That’s great, Zabbie,” she said. "You’re a good 
printer. Thanks a lot.” And Zab, for whom Polly’s 
praise was rare, beamed all over his round red face. 
"The next time you go down to the village,” she 
added, handing back half the cards, "would you 
mind just getting them put around in the drug store 
and the Souvenir Shoppe and the market, or any¬ 
where else where people will see them, you know.” 
Then Polly picked up her paint brush again, and 
went to work on the Ford. 

"What are you going to do with all the money you 
earn?” enquired Zab, watching her, anxious, as al¬ 
ways, to prolong their interview. 

"Oh, take care of my old age,” said Polly, with a 
laugh. 

"You won’t have to do that, Polly,” said Zab 





UNDER WAY 


23 


looking seriously at her, "for we shall be married, 
and I shall be taking care of you.” 

"Don’t be a blithering idiot!” said Polly, without 
lifting her eyes from her paint brush. 

"But we are going to be married sometime, you 
know, Polly,” went on Zab earnestly. 

Polly finished the particular spot on which she 
was working. Then she glanced up carelessly. 

"Look in the box, will you, like a good child,” 
she said, flourishing her brush toward the gate, "and 
see if there’s any mail.” 

"No, there isn’t,” said Zab, dropping the cover of 
the mail box with a bang. "And I wish, Polly, you 
wouldn’t call me that any more.” 

"Well, don’t act like one then,” retorted Polly. 

Just then the screen door opened, and George ap¬ 
peared, running down the steps like a boy let out of 
school. He scowled a little at Zab, with a brief hello; 
then he turned to Polly. 

"Got off easy this time,” he said, glancing back at 
the drawing-room window. Then, observing the car, 
"I say, that begins to look flossie,” he added. 

"Yes,” agreed Polly, squinting at it, her head on 
one side. Then she grinned. "Good for you, Georgy- 
Porgy,” she said. "Flossie Ford —that’s it!” 

And they both laughed, while Zab still stood awk¬ 
wardly by. 

Polly looked up through the tree tops, where puffy 
white clouds were sailing over on a fresh west wind. 


24 


LET POLLY DO IT 


It really was a beautiful day, and the eighteen-footer 
was a dream in a west wind. 

'Til go out with you for an hour, Georgy-Porgy,” 
she announced. "Want to come too, Zabbie? ,, she 
added, her black eyes full of mischief, as she saw 
George’s expression. 

"I can’t,” said Zab doggedly. "I’ve got to go to 
Rockland with Mother.” 

"Oh,” said Polly cheerfully, "then you can stop at 
the dairy farm and get those kittens on the way back. 
Mrs. Daggett said I could have them today. Hop in, 
Georgy. We’ll go down in Flossie. Just put my 
sweater on the back seat.” And hastily wiping her 
hands on the paint rag, Polly slid in behind the wheel, 
and started the engine. "Oh, goodness, there’s the 
paint pot!” she exclaimed, "Aunt Retta’ll have a fit. 
Zab,” she called, leaning from the window, as the 
car started with a jerk, "just put the paint away for 
me, will you, there’s a good—boy. And don’t forget 
the kittens.” 

Then Flossie Ford rattled off down the hill under 
the elms. 



Chapter Two 

BUSINESS BOOMS 


P olly, paint brush in hand, stood before Debby’s 
old easel, which she had set out upon the grass 
behind the shed, and regarded her work. On the 
easel was a large sign-board, with a white background, 
on which Polly was carefully filling in, in black, the 
letters which had been outlined in pencil. Presently 
she stepped back and squinted for a moment at the 
sign. Then, with a shake of her boyish bob and a 
hitch to her white slacks, she went diligently to work 
again on the last letter. She had almost finished it 
when her eye was caught by something over the top of 
the sign, and she stopped long enough to wave. 

"Hello, Zabbie,” she called to the figure which at 
that moment emerged from the Eatons’ garage, wheel¬ 
ing a lawn-mower. "Don’t begin to cut the grass 
now. I shall want you to help me in a few minutes.” 
At the sound of Polly’s voice, Zab at once dropped 


25 


26 


LET POLLY DO IT 


the handle of the lawn-mower, and came across into 
the Stebbins' yard. 

"Gee-whiz, Polly, 5 ’ he said, standing beside her, 
and looking at the sign, "you’ve done a dandy job. 
But I don’t see how you can put that on the gate.” 

"It’s not going on the gate, stupid,” said Polly, 
giving a final touch to the E. "It’s going on a tree 
up the road. I decided that would be simpler.” 

"Oh,” said Zab, re-reading the sign. 

SLOW DOWN! 

YOU ARE APPROACHING 
POLLY’S CATS 

and 

THE FAMOUS OLD STEBBINS MANSION 
STOP—LOOK—COME IN! 

TAKE HOME THE FLUFFIEST KITTEN IN 

MAINE! 

"Won’t your aunt make a fuss about it?” said 
Zab, who stood in awe of Polly’s relations, especially 
Miss Henrietta. 

"No,” said Polly. "She will be spared, by not see¬ 
ing it. Do you mind carrying the sign out to Flos¬ 
sie, while I get the hammer and nails? We’ll put it 
up right away. Hold it away from you now—yes, 
like that—and be careful not to smooch it when you 
set it in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.” And 
Polly vanished into the shed. 


BUSINESS BOOMS 


27 


Zab, carrying the sign awkwardly in front of him, 
strode along the side of the Stebbins mansion toward 
the front gate. Out of the corner of his eye, he was 
sure that he saw an aunt sitting by the window of 
the south parlor sewing, but whichever it was, she 
fortunately did not look up, and Zab and the sign 
reached Flossie Ford in safety. A moment later they 
were joined by Polly, carrying a small step-ladder, 
as well as the hammer and nails. She had stopped 
long enough to put a canvas hat on the boyish bob 
and a gay kerchief at the neck of her white blouse, 
and Zab thought that he had never seen her look 
so jaunty and delightful. She tied the ladder to the 
running board, and slid in beside Zab. 

"We’ll just go up to the big oak,” said Polly, "and 
you can nail the sign there.” 

The ride was all too short for Zab, who was not 
often taken out in Flossie. In less than five minutes 
Polly had drawn the car to the side of the road by 
the big oak, and Zab was standing on the top of the 
ladder, hammering the sign to the tree, while Polly 
handed up the nails. 

"It looks very well,” she said, regarding it critically, 
as Zab descended from the ladder. "Thanks, Zab- 
bie.” 

"Let’s go for a ride,” suggested Zab, as they got 
back into the car. 

"No,” said Polly, backing Flossie around, "I haven’t 


time. 


28 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"Oh, but Polly, 5 ’ protested Zab, "we haven’t been 
anywhere for a long time.” 

"I can’t today,” said Polly, with decision. "I’ve 
got to go and fix Mrs. Robinson’s liver. They always 
have it on Thursday. Besides, you’ve got to mow the 
lawn.” And in another minute Polly had drawn 
Flossie up by the Eatons’ gate, and was waiting for 
Zab to get out. "And would you mind, Zabbie, put¬ 
ting the ladder away in the shed? You are rather a 
nice boy,” she added, smiling at him, as he obediently 
untied the ladder. 

"When are you coming back?” he said, stirred by 
the smile. "It’s awfully dull around here when you’re 
away, Polly.” And he looked at her with disconcert¬ 
ing earnestness. 

"Oh, I don’t know,” said Polly indifferently, start¬ 
ing the engine again. Something would have to be 
done about Zabbie. He was getting altogether too 
sentimental. Nevertheless, she waved her hand out 
of the window without looking around, as she slid 
off down the hill. 

In a moment she had dismissed him from her mind, 
and had begun to think about cats, counting up the 
kittens that had already been promised to her, and 
busily figuring out how many slats it would take to 
make the little crates when they had to be shipped. 
It was not until, the liver having been prepared, she 
walked out of the Robinsons’ gate again, with a quar¬ 
ter in her pocket, and opened the door of Flossie, 


BUSINESS BOOMS 


29 


that she thought about Zab again. Poor Zabbie, 
should she go back and get him and take him for a 
ride? There was still time before supper to go out 
on the Bascom Bay road, and see if the kittens at 
the red farmhouse were really worth collecting. No, 
Polly decided, she would not take Zab. In his pres¬ 
ent frame of mind, he would have to be snubbed. 
And before the end of the afternoon she was, indeed, 
glad of her decision. 

In another minute she had turned the car, and 
was rattling along the road to Bascom Bay. It was 
the end of a clear, beautiful June day, and Polly 
sniffed the sweetness of the summer afternoon through 
the open window with real delight. As a rule her 
busy, practical mind gave little attention to natural 
beauty. But it was a lovely country, thought Polly, 
looking off from the top of the hill across the roll¬ 
ing green fields, and the pastures pink with wild 
roses. Far away beyond them, and the distant line 
of dark little spruces, she could just see a narrow 
blue strip of open ocean. Somewhere out there on 
that blue were George and the eighteen-footer. Oh, 
but it must be fun to be able to sail away and away, 
without any thought of coming back! 

Well, in a little over two months she, too, would 
be off to freedom and adventure—not very far, to 
be sure, but away from Bellport anyway. Polly 
drew a long breath and stepped on the accelerator, 
so that the old car fairly flew to the top of the next 


30 


LET POLLY DO IT 


hill. Straight ahead was the red farmhouse, but 
Polly suddenly stopped the car and looked off to the 
right, where the silo and dairy barns of the Daggett 
farm gleamed in the sunny field. A girl in a bright 
red dress was running like mad across a distant pas¬ 
ture, pursued by a cow. Polly watched with interest. 
It must be that foolish Ethel Daggett, who had just 
come to live with her uncle, and she probably thought 
it was a bull. Polly grinned, and, seeing that the girl 
was safely over the fence, started Flossie again. 

The kittens at the red farmhouse proved adorable. 
In less than ten minutes Polly had made a brisk nego¬ 
tiation for them with the woman in the kitchen, and 
was carrying them off down the walk, a bunch of 
golden yellow under each arm, to the car. 

"Don’t forget to let me know if you have some 
more in the fall,” she called back, as she slammed the 
door of Flossie on the kittens. And the woman, stand¬ 
ing with her hands folded under her apron, and 
looking at the retreating slacks, said to herself that 
that was a smart and pleasant young one, in spite 
of her outlandish rig. 

As she drove off down the road toward home, Polly 
thought that she had never in her life seen such lively 
and investigating kittens. They did not seem in the 
least frightened by this amazing break in their quiet 
kittenhood. They clambered all over the car, press¬ 
ing their little wet noses against the windows, jump- 


BUSINESS BOOMS 


31 


ing from the cushions to the top of the seat, and from 
there to Polly’s shoulders. Finally one of them jumped 
up on the wheel. Polly, laughing, stopped the car 
for a moment, in order to drop them both into the 
back again. As she did so, she noticed another car 
just ahead, stalled by the roadside. It was a very 
neat Chevrolet runabout, and a nice looking young 
man was standing beside it, anxiously examining its 
inner workings. Without a moment’s hesitation, 
Polly opened the door of Flossie and jumped out. 

"Are you having engine trouble?” she enquired, 
walking toward the Chevrolet. "Can I help?” 

The young man glanced up in surprise. But his 
eyes were instantly fastened on something behind 
Polly. 

"Hi, there!” he called. "Look out for your cats!” 

Polly swung around, and there, to be sure, were 
her precious kittens, just on the point of jumping 
from the running-board to the road. She had failed 
to close the door. 

"Oh, dash it all!” said Polly, lunging after the kit¬ 
tens. 

But they were too quick for her, and in a moment 
their fluffy little tails were vanishing under the snake 
fence by the side of the road, into the field beyond. 
In a flash Polly was through the fence, with the kit¬ 
tens already far ahead of her, frisking away over the 
green, in evident joy that life had really begun at 


32 


LET POLLY DO IT 


last. The young man, meanwhile, had come through 
the fence farther along the road. 

"Circle around behind them,” he shouted to Polly, 
"and I’ll try to head them off. But don’t let them 
get into that patch of corn, or we’re lost.” 

Then began an absorbing game around the field. 
Polly and the young man dodged back and forth 
on different sides of the kittens, coaxing and shoo¬ 
ing and vainly clutching, but always just before 
the four hands came within grasping distance, away 
went the two fluffy little yellow balls again, capering 
in opposite directions among the buttercups, and the 
process had to be begun all over. 

It was in a tangle of raspberry bushes by the fence 
that the runaways were finally cornered, Polly crawl¬ 
ing in on one side, and the young man on the other. 
A moment later they were confronting one an¬ 
other, laughing and dishevelled, each with a strug¬ 
gling kitten, and Polly had her first really good look 
at the young man. She found him very pleasant 
indeed, although there was, at first sight, nothing 
especially distinctive about him. He was neither very 
tall nor very short, very dark nor very fair, but he 
looked back at Polly with an easy friendliness, as if 
they had known each other for a long time. It was 
not until they had put the kittens safely back into 
the Ford and he turned to her again, that she noticed 
the whimsical eyes under his rather thick brows. They 


BUSINESS BOOMS 


33 


were different from any eyes that Polly had seen in 
other young men, and she was not at all sure whether 
they looked at her with interest, or merely with 
amusement. 

"Thanks a lot,” said Polly, with her engaging smile. 
"If your car’s out of commission, don’t you want me 
to tow you to a garage?” 

"Would you?” said the young man, almost without 
looking at Polly and the smile. "I’d be most awfully 
obliged. I’ll get the rope in my car.” 

Between them they tied the two cars together, he 
accepting her help quite as if they had been motoring 
for months. 

"I’ll ride in my own car,” he said, when at last they 
were ready, "so that I can keep a hand on the wheel.” 

Polly, starting Flossie’s engine, thought that she 
had never seen so detached a young man. Once, as 
they rumbled along toward town, she looked back 
to make sure that the Chevrolet was following prop¬ 
erly. The young man was leaning back behind his 
wheel, with a wide and appreciative smile upon his 
face, but he was not smiling at Polly. He was look¬ 
ing at the back of the Ford, where the words LET 
POLLY DO IT were painted in large white letters. 
Just before they rumbled into Bellport they passed 
a motorcycle chugging up the hill. On it was a lad 
who, as he flew by, turned his head, to his utter 
peril, to stare back at Polly and her tow. It was 


34 


LET POLLY DO IT 


Ned Abbott, and she had told him earlier in the 
afternoon that she was too busy to go out in his 
motor-boat! 

When Polly had brought her tow safely to the ga¬ 
rage on lower Main Street, and the Chevrolet had 
been looked over, it was found that the car would 
have to be left until the next day. 

"Do you live far away?” asked Polly, turning to 
the young man, who stood beside her, regarding the 
Chevrolet somewhat disconsolately. 

"No,” he said, "I’m spending the summer over there 
on West Hill.” And as he spoke, he waved his hand 
toward the opposite side of the street, where through 
the upper branches of the elms a small white house 
could just be discerned, gleaming in the late sun¬ 
shine on a distant slope. "It does seem about time for 
introductions,” he added, feeling about rather casu¬ 
ally in the pockets of his jacket. "I don’t seem to have 
any cards with me, but my name is Randall Gage, 
and Mother and I have the Bixby cottage.” 

"I saw somebody moving in there last week,” said 
Polly, whom nothing ever escaped. "My name is 
Polly—Polly Stebbins.” 

"Oh, yes,” said Randall Gage, apparently still more 
intent on the Chevrolet than on her, "I judged so 
from the back of your car. What, exactly, do you 
do?” he added, looking at her suddenly. 

"I take stranded people home, for one thing!” 
laughed Polly, turning toward Flossie Ford. "Come 


BUSINESS BOOMS 


3* 


on, get in, and I’ll run you over to Bixby’s. And 
more than that,” she added, as Randall seemed for 
some reason to hesitate, "if you object to riding with 
strangers, I can identify myself!” And as she slid 
in behind her wheel, Polly put her hand into the 
pocket of her slacks, and pulled out one of the "Let 
Polly Do It” cards, which she handed to Randall 
Gage. 

Out of the corner of her eye, as they rolled along 
into the country again, Polly could see him, in the 
seat beside her, reading the card, with that funny de¬ 
tached expression on his face, but he made no com¬ 
ment until he came to the end. 

"Comprehensive list,” he remarked then, still look¬ 
ing at the card. "About everything except catching 
frogs for people.” 

"Do you want frogs?” said Polly, glancing at him 
with interest. 

"Sometimes,” he said. 

"To eat?” she asked. 

"No,” he replied, "to dissect.” 

"Oh?” said Polly, more interested than ever. "What 
for?” 

"Just for practice,” said Randall Gage. "I happen 
to work in the biological laboratory at Sanborn Col¬ 
lege in the winter.” 

"Sanborn College!” exclaimed Polly, while Flossie 
gave a little jump. "Why, that’s where I am going 
this fall.” 


3 6 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"Oh, are you?” said Randall, pleasantly, but curi¬ 
ously without interest. 

Polly was silent for a moment. She had never met 
any young man quite like this before. 

"Do you want me to catch some frogs for you?” 
she said. "I used to be rather good at it,” and she 
grinned as her mind went back to one or two of her 
frog episodes with Aunt Retta. 

"That would be nice of you,” said Randall, re¬ 
flectively. Then suddenly he turned to Polly, as if 
he were only just fully aware of her. "But see here,” 
he said, "if you are really hunting for something dis¬ 
agreeable to do, what about coming now and then 
and looking after Philip and Alexander for an after¬ 
noon?” 

"Who are Philip and Alexander?” laughed Polly. 

"They are my small twin nephews,” replied Ran¬ 
dall fervently, shaken for a moment out of his in¬ 
difference, "and, believe me, they are holy terrors. 
I told Mother they’d be too much for her, but she 
would bring them up here. We’ve had the Daggett 
girl looking out for them for a week, but she can’t 
do anything with them.” 

"No,” said Polly, remembering Ethel and the cow, 
"she wouldn’t.” 

"They prefer me and the dissecting to Ethel, and 
there’s simply no getting away from them, or accom¬ 
plishing anything,” said Randall, quite as if he were 
confessing his troubles to an old and tried friend. 


BUSINESS BOOMS 


37 


'Til come and look after them,” said Polly simply. 

"You will?” said Randall, turning to her with en¬ 
thusiasm for the first time. “When?” 

“To-morrow,” said Polly. 

“There are two of them, you know,” said Randall, 
“and each is worse than the other.” 

“I shan’t mind them,” said Polly, who had never yet 
had any difficulty with any male creature. 

“By George, I don’t believe you will,” said Randall, 
regarding Polly with a friendly, matter-of-course 
sort of grin, as she drew Flossie Ford up in front of 
the Bixby cottage. “Won’t you come in and meet 
my mother?” 

Polly cast a hasty glance at her grass-stained slacks. 

“No,” she said, “I’ll see her to-morrow. Thanks 
again for helping catch the kittens.” 

“Thank you for giving me a lift,” said Randall, 
getting out of the car, and touching his cap to Polly. 
“See you to-morrow then—somewhere around two?” 

“Yes,” said Polly, bringing her hand to her fore¬ 
head in mock salute. 

Then she quickly backed Flossie around, and started 
off, with the customary jerk, toward home. She 
turned for a moment, to see if Randall were looking 
after her, but he was walking swiftly up the path 
with his eyes on the ground, and he did not so much 
as glance over his shoulder at the departing Flossie. 
Polly pretended to herself that she had only turned 
to look at the kittens, who had gone to sleep at last 


\ 


38 


LET POLLY DO IT 


in a little golden heap on the back seat. Then she 
faced her road again, and tossed back her straight 
black hair, which the wind had blown over her face. 
He might just have looked around once, thought 
Polly. Nevertheless, he was the nicest man she had 
ever met—so easy and comfortable, without a bit 
of nonsense. You couldn’t even tell whether he liked 
you or not, but you felt at once that you had known 
him for a long time. She did hope that he would be 
there when she went to-morrow to look after those 
twins. Suddenly Polly remembered that she had 
never thought to ask what they paid for that job. 
She bit her lip as she reflected that Randall Gage 
was very likely smiling to himself at this moment as he 
thought of how un-businesslike she was. Well, it 
would be something, anyhow, to add to her bank 
account, which was growing all too slowly. There 
was only a little over two months before— Polly 
impetuously stepped on the gas, and brought Flos¬ 
sie up the Stebbins hill with every bolt rattling. And 
there at the top was Zab, oiling his lawn mower by 
the Eatons’ gate. Zabbie! Why, it seemed ages since 
she had left him at that job. 

Goodness! What a mercy it was that she hadn’t 
taken him along this afternoon! 


Chapter Three 

A CONQUEST 


ou are far too inclined, Polly,” said Miss Henri- 



J- etta, sitting very straight behind the silver coffee 
urn at the breakfast table, "to take up with stran¬ 
gers. I have told you more than once that it has never 
been the custom of the Stebbins’ to make acquaint¬ 
ances without an introduction.” 

"But his car had broken down, Aunt Retta,” pro¬ 
tested Polly, looking up from her cereal with eyes 
unusually bright and sharp, "and he was a mile from 
a garage. Besides, there was nobody there to intro¬ 
duce us—except the precious kittens, and I will say 
that they did their level best!” And Polly smiled 
to herself at the remembrance. 

"I repeat,” said Aunt Retta, and her voice was 
firmer than ever, "I repeat that I have never liked, 
and I never shall like, pick-me-ups, from nobody 
knows where.” 

"Eric was a pick-me-up-from-nobody-knows- 
where,” said Polly, her black eyes full of mischief. 


39 



40 


LET POLLY DO IT 


She knew perfectly that in Aunt Retta’s estimation 
Debby’s husband could do no wrong. 

"Eric is an entirely different matter,” said Aunt 
Retta stiffly. "Debby met him in our own house, 
where he had come for perfectly good reasons.” 

"He just walked in, though, without an introduc¬ 
tion,” maintained Polly, demurely finishing her cereal. 

"I don’t like this disposition to argue everything, 
Polly, and it seems to me that it is growing on you,” 
said Aunt Retta. "All I want you to understand is 
that I don’t care to have you going to the Bixby cot¬ 
tage until we know something about these people 
who have moved in there.” 

"I should hardly suppose,” said Aunt Nell, who 
had come in from the kitchen with a plate of toast 
during the conversation, "that Mrs. Bixby would 
have rented the cottage to any one who was unde¬ 
sirable. Perhaps Dr. Hill will know about them. I 
shall see him this morning when I go down to the 
village, and I will make enquiries. Did you say the 
name was Gage , Polly?” 

"Yes,” said Polly, "and, if you like, I’ll ask Miss 
Stanhope at the Academy, when I go up with the 
books. You and I both know, Aunt Retta, that if 
Miss Stanhope has no criticism of people they must 
be ripe for heaven!” And Polly grinned with good 
humor across the table at the coffee urn. Polly was 
perennially good-humored, and she always had known 
how to disarm Aunt Retta. 


41 


A CONQUEST 

"Well,” said Miss Henrietta, in a voice somewhat 
less firm, "we’ll see. But if you do go, Polly,” she 
added, reaching for her crutches, "I want it under¬ 
stood that you are to wear a dress —not any of these 
trousers 

"HI let you look me over before I start, Aunt 
Retta,” laughed Polly, well aware that her point was 
won. 

It was a more than usually gay Polly who drove 
down the hill that morning, to carry Aunt Nell and 
the market basket to the village, and the books to 
the Academy, and it was a still more cheerful one 
who rattled back up to the Stebbins mansion an hour 
later. For both old Dr. Hill and Miss Stanhope had 
spoken in the highest terms of the Gages. As she went 
through the hall toward the kitchen with the laden 
market basket, Polly looked in for a moment at the 
door of the south parlor, where Miss Henrietta was 
sitting in the wing-chair, behind the morning paper. 

"Oh, Aunt Retta,” said Polly, her dark eyes more 
mischievous than ever, "Miss Stanhope does know 
about the Gages, and she says that the step-sister of 
some relative of Mrs. Gage married a connection of 
old Cousin Jonathan’s first wife—or the wife of some 
relative married Cousin Jonathan’s step-sister, or— 
well, anyhow, the Gages are sort of Stebbins cousins, 
you see!” 

There was an ominous pause, during which the 
newspaper rustled slightly. 


42 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"I hope that you will see, Polly, that Aunt Nell 
does not have to get lunch/’ said Miss Henrietta after 
a moment, a little severely, though her face was still 
concealed by the paper. "I think she does not feel 
quite like herself.” 

"Yes, I’ll get it,” said Polly cheerfully, as she moved 
off down the hall with the market basket. As she 
opened the kitchen door, she smiled her funny little 
crooked smile, for she knew very well that nobody 
except herself ever took such liberties with Aunt 
Retta with impunity. 

As soon as lunch was over and cleared away, Polly 
went up to her room to array herself for the after¬ 
noon. She dressed with care in a brown frock, piped 
with red, that Ned Abbott had told her made her look 
"as jolly as the deuce.” She tried in vain to arrange 
her perverse bob to suit her, and finally in despair ran 
her fingers through it, and shook it back as usual 
from her face, covering it with a little brown cap that 
had once belonged to Debby. If only there were a 
face like Debby’s under it, thought Polly ruefully. 
Debby was always, for Polly, the prettiest person 
in the world. She took a final glance into the 
mirror and ran quickly into the hall and down the 
stairs. 

"How about it, Aunt Retta?” she said gaily, stand¬ 
ing, with her hands behind her, in the doorway of 
the drawing-room. "Do I pass muster?” 


43 


A CONQUEST 

Miss Henrietta looked up from the old secretary 
where she was writing, and surveyed her niece criti¬ 
cally from under her level brows. 

"'You will do,” she said, "if you will keep your hair 
back. Please be sure to be home by five.” And Aunt 
Retta resumed her writing. 

A few minutes later Polly, having put a small pole, 
a little bunch of netting and a tin pail on the back 
seat of Flossie, was sliding down the hill toward the 
village. Half way down she met Zab, plodding up un¬ 
der the elms. 

"Oh, Zabbie,” she called from the car window, "will 
you please put fresh water for the kittens. I forgot.” 

"Where are you going?” shouted Zab, turning with 
surprise to look after the becoming dress and cap. 
Polly almost never dressed up during business hours. 

But Flossie was already too far down the hill for a 
reply. It was just as well, thought Polly, for Zabbie 
was inclined to be a nuisance whenever she had made 
a new male acquaintance. As she chugged along the 
road to West Hill, Polly was filled with anticipation 
of her adventure, and she very much hoped that nice 
Randall Gage would have a part in it. 

When she drew Flossie up in front of the little 
white cottage, however, the only people in sight were 
a small frail-looking woman in a wicker chair on the 
porch, and a square-faced little boy in brown cordu¬ 
roys, who was striding the rail with a pair of very 


44 


LET POLLY DO IT 


solid legs, and trying with obvious antics to attract 
attention. 

"I suppose you are Polly Stebbins,” said Mrs. Gage, 
coming to the edge of the porch, with a smile that 
wavered a little, and holding out her hand, as Polly 
came up the steps. She reminded one a bit of Aunt 
Nell, thought Polly at once, only without Aunt Nel¬ 
ly’s gumption. "This is Philip,” continued Mrs. Gage, 
indicating, with a hand that shook a little, the small 
boy cavorting on the rail. Polly nodded in the direc¬ 
tion of Philip, and as she did so, she noticed a second 
small square face pressed firmly against the screen of 
the window that looked on the porch. "I have had to 
keep Alexander in the house for a while,” Mrs. Gage 
explained. "It is very good of you to come over. Do 
you really think you will be able to manage by your¬ 
self for the whole afternoon?” 

"Oh yes!” Polly spoke with cheerful confidence, 
looking with a shade of pity at the ineffective little 
person before her. 

"It doesn’t seem at all courteous to run off and 
leave you alone with them.” Mrs. Gage’s pale face was 
full of worry and uncertainty. "Randall has had to 
go away for the afternoon, and, to tell the truth, I 
have hardly known how I was going to hold up until 
you should come. My headaches always mean an aft¬ 
ernoon in my room.” And as she spoke, she put her 
slender hand to her forehead, in a gesture that re¬ 
minded Polly again of Aunt Nell. 


A CONQUEST 45 

"You’d better go right away,” suggested Polly. 
"We shall be quite all right, and I can stay until 
five.” 

"Oh, can you?” said Mrs. Gage, in a tone of relief; 

"Randall should be back by then- And you are 

sure you can manage?” 

"Oh yes,” said Polly again. 

At the foot of the little stairway just inside the 
door Mrs. Gage turned back for a moment. 

"Alexander may come out in twenty minutes,” she 
explained, "and perhaps later you would like to take 
the boys for a walk—if they will go,” she added doubt¬ 
fully. 

"We shan’t,” said Philip firmly. 

As soon as Mrs. Gage had disappeared wearily up 
the stairs, Polly glanced at her wrist watch, and walked 
down the steps toward Flossie. 

"Are you going away again?” demanded Philip, 
stopping his antics in astonishment, and staring at 
Polly. 

"No,” said Polly, without looking around, "just 
going to get something.” 

She took the pole and the net from the back seat of 
the car. Then she sat down on the porch steps and 
went to work to attach the net, which was on a little 
hoop, to one end of the pole. She paid no attention 
whatever to Philip. This surprised him, as he was used 
to being the center of attention. He tried walking 
along the top of the rail, which he was forbidden to 



46 


LET POLLY DO IT 


do; then he swung perilously from some of the upper 
fretwork of the porch. But Polly did not even look 
up. After a few minutes his curiosity got the better 
of him. 

"What you doing? 5 ’ he asked, edging along the rail 
toward Polly. 

"Making a frog net, 55 answered Polly, still without 
raising her eyes. 

"Oh, 55 said Philip, sliding off the rail, and walking 
over to the steps, with open interest. "What do you 
do with it?” 

"Catch frogs,” said Polly. 

"What for?” Philip was curious. 

"Your uncle,” Polly replied. 

Philip stood with his hands in his pockets, his cordu¬ 
roy legs wide apart, his eyes glued upon Polly. He had 
never seen any one like her before. 

"Do you like Uncle Ranny?” he demanded 

"I don’t know him very well,” said Polly indiffer¬ 
ently. "He seems all right.” 

"He’s swell,” announced Philip heartily. 

"Can I come out now?” called a voice from the 
window that looked on the porch. 

"It’s Alec,” said Philip. "He broke the long mir¬ 
ror in Granny’s room. That’s why he’s in there. 
Granny said there was no reason for jumping round 
in front of it so much, but there was. Only Alec 
wouldn’t tell.” 


47 


A CONQUEST 

"He was trying to see what was in the mirror when 
nobody was looking in it, I suppose,” said Polly, still 
intent upon her net. 

"How did you know?” said Philip, in an awe¬ 
struck voice. 

"Everybody does that, until they find out it’s 
foolish,” replied Polly. "You can never turn fast 
enough, you know.” 

"Oh.” Philip still regarded her with round eyes. 

"Can I come out now?” reiterated the voice behind 
the screen, with greater urgency. 

Polly glanced at her wrist watch again. 

"In four minutes,” she said, her eyes on the draw¬ 
ing-string, which she was now running in the bottom 
of the little net. 

There was silence for a few minutes, while Philip 
watched, spellbound. Then Polly stood up. 

"Come on, Alec,” she called. 

Almost before the words were out of her mouth, 
there was a second small square boy in brown cordu¬ 
roys on the porch. So far as Polly could see, the two 
were precisely alike, except that Alexander seemed, 
if possible, a little more square and solid than Philip. 
He was also much more silent. As a matter of fact, 
Alexander spoke so seldom that when he did it was 
well to take heed—as Polly was to find out later. Polly 
swung the net gaily in front of her, and smiled one 
of her wide sudden smiles at nobody in particular. 


48 


LET POLLY DO IT 


'Tm going frogging,” she said, and ran quickly 
down the steps toward the car, from which the 
twins saw her take the tin pail. 

For just a moment they hesitated. Then they, too, 
clattered down the steps to the car. Polly handed 
the net to Philip and the pail to Alexander. 

"Let’s run down the hill,” she said, seizing a little 
thick hand in each of hers. And before they knew 
just what they were doing, Philip and Alexander, who 
disliked going to walk with any one, were racing 
like mad down the steep field behind the cottage, their 
stubby little shoes hardly touching the clover tops 
as they flew along. 

"That was fun,” said Philip, when they halted, 
breathless, at the bottom. "Let’s do it again.” 

"No,” said Polly, dropping their hands at once, 
"not now. We have to get the frogs.” And away 
she walked across the level field, toward the pond 
that gleamed in the hollow among the trees. The 
twins, too interested to be surprised at themselves, 
followed at her heels. 

It was a small, shallow pond, and the water was 
very quiet under the overhanging branches. Near 
the shore the surface was covered with a delicate green 
scum, above which the brilliant darning-needles darted 
back and forth. Here and there, where a stone or a 
half-sunken log showed above the water, froggy eyes 
blinked in the afternoon sunshine. Polly sat down at 
once on the bank and, to the amazement of the twins, 


A CONQUEST 49 

who stood watching every movement, began to unlace 
her shoes. 

"You can’t go in wading,” said Philip, who found 
it hard to believe his eyes. "There are snakes in there. 
Ethel said so.” Then, as Polly continued to pull off 
her stockings, "Aren’t you afraid of snakes?” 

"No,” said Polly briefly, standing up in her bare 
feet. 

Philip stared in admiration. 

"I want to go too,” he announced, bending suddenly 
to his own shoe laces, as also, immediately, did Alex¬ 
ander. 

"I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Polly carelessly. 
"More than one wader scares the frogs. And besides, 
when you go frogging the important people stay on 
the bank, to tell which way the frogs swim when they 
jump, and to put them into the pail when they are 
passed in.” 

Then Polly, turning her back upon the twins, 
splashed into the scummy water, the net in her hand. 
Philip and Alexander looked at each other, and at 
Polly, her brown skirt tucked up, wading out among 
the frogs. Then suddenly Philip scrambled up into a 
little tree, and Alexander sat down on a log at the top 
of the bank, the pail beside him. 

There followed an hour of high excitement for the 
twins. Philip, straddling a branch, shouted shrill di¬ 
rections about frogs, Polly scooped swiftly about in the 
muddy water with the net, and Alexander, jiggling 


50 


LET POLLY DO IT 


up and down on his log, reached out with eager hands 
to catch the net from Polly and dump the new frogs 
into the pail. Every few minutes operations stopped, 
while Alexander counted his frogs to make sure that 
none had jumped out. 

"I’ve got eleven!” he announced at last, actually 
breaking into speech. 

"That’s enough,” said Polly, wading ashore, and 
picking up her shoes and stockings. 

"Oh dear,” said Philip, who did not want the fun 
to stop. 

But it didn’t. 

As soon as Polly had laced her shoes, she walked over 
to a birch tree, and cut a piece of bark. Then she sat 
down on the bank and made a fleet of tiny canoes, 
which she set sailing on the pond with crickets in them. 
The game was to see how far they would sail before 
the crickets jumped. The twins sat as close to her as 
possible and watched. When the canoes were all 
launched, Polly skipped stones across the pond. Philip 
and Alexander had never seen any one’s stones, even 
Uncle Ranny’s, skip so far and so lightly. They tried 
skipping them too, but before they had succeeded at 
all, Polly was off again around the pond, doing some¬ 
thing else that was interesting. 

Philip and Alexander simply could not keep up with 
her, and as for Polly herself, she showed only the most 
casual interest in the twins. Everything that she did 
seemed to be simply for her own entertainment. They 



An hour of high excitement for the twins . 









S3 


A CONQUEST 

had just caught up with her at a large ant-hill, on 
which she was making experiments with a stick, when 
she suddenly looked at her wrist-watch, and an¬ 
nounced that they must start home at once. Leading 
the way to the head of the pond she handed the pail 
and the net to the twins and was off briskly across 
the field toward the cottage. 

"Are you going back to your own house now?” 
asked Philip, as he and Alexander panted along beside 
her. 

"Yes,” said Polly. 

"Will you come again to-morrow?” said Philip. 

"No,” replied Polly. 

"Oh, dear,” sighed Philip. 

When they were almost at the cottage somebody 
came out on the porch. 

"Uncle Ranny!” called Philip, running ahead. "See 
what we’ve got for you!” 

Randall Gage came down the steps with a pleasant 
careless nod in the direction of Polly and taking the 
pail which Philip held toward him, lifted the cover. 
A green streak leaped at once from the pail into the 
grass. 

"Hi there!” shouted Polly, laughing. "Look out 
for your frogs!” 

For a few seconds there was a wild jumping about 
in front of the cottage, until the fugitive was finally 
re-captured under the net. 

"You don’t expect me to attend to all those reptiles 


54 


LET POLLY DO IT 


single-handed, do you?” said Randall, peering cau¬ 
tiously into the pail through a narrow aperture, as he 
dropped in the frog. "If you don’t look out, I shall 
be needing a laboratory assistant, and may have to 
'let Polly do it!’ ” 

"You’d better not ask,” retorted Polly at once. "I 
might accept, you know! I like reptiles.” 

"And don’t you think you’ll like Uncle Ranny 
too?” said Philip, who, with Alexander, stood listen¬ 
ing anxiously on the bottom step. 

"See here,” said Randall, swinging around toward 
the step, "suppose you two go in and scrub up for 
supper.” 

"No,” asserted Philip, "not yet.” 

Polly glanced over her shoulder at the twins. 

"I would if I were you,” she said indifferently, "or 
maybe I shan’t come again.” 

Then she turned toward her car. 

Philip and Alexander regarded Polly’s retreating 
back for a moment. 

"All right,” said Philip, "we’ll go in.” And with¬ 
out another word they both trudged stolidly up the 
steps and into the house. 

"By George!” said Randall Gage, staring at Polly 
in his turn. "A complete conquest!” And there was 
something besides the usual whimsical amusement in 
his eyes, as he opened the door of Flossie. "By the way, 
what do I owe you?” he added, putting his hand in his 
pocket, as Polly slipped in behind her wheel. 


55 


A CONQUEST 

"'Fifty cents,” she said promptly, determined this 
time to be very business-like. 

"You mean, an hour?” asked Randall. 

"No,” said Polly, "in all.” 

"Those two, for a whole afternoon, for fifty cents! 
Well, I’m not that kind of a skinflint!” Randall 
Gage took his hand from his pocket. "Here’s a dol¬ 
lar, and the gratitude of a tormented soul.” 

"Oh, I couldn’t take all that,” said Polly, shaking 
her head with decision. Then, as Randall continued 
to stand with his foot on the running-board, and his 
dollar thrust through the window, Polly’s face 
changed. "Well, I’ll let you this once,” she said taking 
the bill. "It’s for the Cause. Perhaps sometime I’ll 
tell you about that,” she added, with her most en¬ 
gaging smile, as she started the engine. 

"Good for you!” said Randall, with his usual 
pleasant detachment, taking his foot from the run¬ 
ning-board. "What about coming again Friday?” 

"Yes,” nodded Polly, as Flossie jumped forward. 

What on earth had made her speak of the Cause to 
Randall Gage? said Polly to herself, as she drove away. 
He was a very understanding person—the kind one 
talked things over with. This time she would not turn 
her head. So, with eyes straight ahead upon the road, 
Polly drove down West Hill, and never knew that to¬ 
day it was Randall Gage who looked back, and stood 
in front of the Bixby cottage watching, until Flossie 
was out of sight. 


Chapter Four 

PLANS AWRY 

P olly stood by the table in the baggage room of 
the dingy Bellport station, while Bert Leary made 
out the express receipt. She was looking down soberly 
at the crate on the table and scratching under the 
chin the furry face that peered anxiously out between 
the slats. It was a little yellow face, and it belonged 
to one of the kittens who had introduced Polly and 
Randall. Suddenly Polly lifted the crate and held it 
while the wet nose inside pressed itself against hers. 
Was it even stuffier in the crate than it was in the 
station, and how would it be in the baggage car? 

"Oh, Bert,” she said, as the old station master 
handed her the receipt, "may I take that pencil a 
minute?” And sitting on the edge of the table, she 
printed as blackly as possible on the top slats: 

I AM THIRSTY. PLEASE GIVE ME A 

DRINK. 

Then, without letting herself look into the crate 
again, she walked quickly out of the station. 


56 


PLANS AWRY 


57 


"You won’t forget to speak to the man on the 
train about the kitten, will you, Bert?” she said, as 
she returned the pencil. "It’s terribly hot.” 

"There’ll be a breeze in the baggage car,” said the 
old station master gruffly, but with a gleam of friend¬ 
liness in his eyes. 

My, but it was hot, thought Polly, as she walked out 
through the July sunshine to Flossie at the edge of the 
platform. Behind the wheel, she stopped for a mo¬ 
ment to mop her face. Just then there was a shout 
across the street. 

"Hold on a minute, Polly,” called a voice. And 
there by the car was a handsome, fair-haired boy in 
outing flannels, his foot on the running board. "I 
say,” he began, "what are you always trying to get 
away from me for? And when are we going out in 
the motor-boat again?” 

"I can’t today, Neddy,” said Polly shortly. "I’m 
busy.” 

"You always say that same thing, Polly,” said Ned 
Abbott. "What are you so busy about?” 

"Quite important things, if I chose to explain 
them,” said Polly, with an airy smile. 

"In other words, 'Mind your own business,’ ” re¬ 
torted Ned, scowling. "Well, I know some of the 
things you’re doing, Miss Polly. You’re up at Bixby’s 
a lot of the time with that Gage fellow doing experi¬ 
ments, I suppose. Henry Gill says he has a regular 
laboratory in his shed.” 


58 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"You don’t have to go to Henry Gill to find out 
about the Gages,” replied Polly, scowling too, in her 
effort to make her brows level like Aunt Retta’s. 
"When you want to know anything, just come to 
me. I go up there three times a week. Now if you 
will kindly take your foot off the running board, Mr. 
Edwin, I will proceed on my way. This is not exactly 
the coolest spot in the world for repartee.” 

Whereupon Polly started her engine, and went 
jouncing away from the platform, leaving Ned Ab¬ 
bott looking ruefully after her. Just as she turned 
Flossie into Main Street, however, Polly glanced back 
through the car window, with the sudden smile that 
nobody could resist. 

"Cheer up, Neddy,” she called. "Scowls are not be¬ 
coming to your style. If it’s a good day Saturday, 
perhaps HI go out.” 

But before she had driven a block Polly had dis¬ 
missed Ned Abbott from her mind and was thinking 
of other things—especially of yesterday, and of the 
three hours that she had spent with Randall Gage in 
his shed laboratory. Philip and Alexander had gone 
unexpectedly on a long drive into the country with 
Mrs. Gage, and Polly, set free, had had a delightful 
afternoon. She and Randall had worked on a collec¬ 
tion of bright-winged moths which he had caught 
the day before, examining them under the glass and 
checking them up in the big entomology. Then to- 



PLANS AWRY 


59 


gether they had mounted the moths, Polly helping to 
set the fragile bodies on the pins and to adjust the 
delicate, powdery wings. And Randall had told her, 
quite casually, that she had deft fingers! 

It was this very casualness that made it such fun 
to work with Randall. He was just a good comrade, 
with nothing sentimental or uncomfortable about 
him, as there was about other boys. For, after all, he 
was a boy, since he had only graduated from college 
this June. He must be smart to be going back as 
laboratory assistant in the fall. She did like smart 
people, said Polly to herself, as she ran Flossie slowly 
into the driveway of the Stebbins mansion. Oh, dear, 
there was Zabbie over in his yard! 

Zab, however, was so intent upon the trellis, which 
he was nailing to the side of the Eaton house, that 
for once he did not hear the sound of the car, and 
Polly, bringing Flossie to a stop as noiselessly as pos¬ 
sible, jumped out and slipped quickly around the cor¬ 
ner of the Stebbins mansion into the garden. A fresh 
breeze from the river blew up the garden path, cool¬ 
ing the air and bringing to Polly a hundred sweet 
scents mingled in the sunshine. She walked slowly 
along, trailing her hands in the spirea and stopping to 
bury her face in the great shaggy white peonies that 
in early July filled the garden with fragrant snow¬ 
drifts. It was just as she raised her face from the 
peonies that she saw Henry Gill drawing up his car 


60 


LET POLLY DO IT 


in front of the gate and putting a letter in the Steb- 
bins box. 

"Guess you folks got what you want this time,” 
called the old postman, who knew everybody’s busi¬ 
ness. 

Polly ran quickly up the garden path and down 
the walk to the gate, the scent of the peonies still 
in her nostrils. It was long before she was able to dis¬ 
associate them from the hour that followed, or to 
tolerate their clean sweet smell. Both Aunt Retta 
and Aunt Nell were standing at the screen door as 
Polly came up the walk. 

"Here it is!” she called jubilantly, as she ran up the 
steps, waving the thin square envelope. "It’s from 
Debby!” 

"Give it to me, child,” said Aunt Retta, holding 
out an impatient and not quite steady hand. "We will 
come in here to read it.” And clasping the letter 
against her crutch, Miss Henrietta led the way into 
the drawing-room. 

Aunt Nell helped Aunt Retta to settle herself on 
the little sofa by the fireplace, and sat down beside 
her, while Polly ran to the secretary for the paper- 
knife. Aunt Retta never liked to have letters torn 
raggedly open. With what patience she could muster, 
Polly stood on the hearth beneath Great-grand¬ 
mother’s portrait while Aunt Retta carefully slit the 
envelope and drew out the thin sheets covered with 
Debby’s clear beautiful writing. Aunt Nell sat 


PLANS AWRY 


61 


quietly, a look of happy expectation on her face, but 
she made no move to glance at the letter, or to hurry 
her sister in any way. It was tacitly understood that 
Aunt Retta always skimmed the first cream. She did 
so now, holding the letter at arm’s length as she was 
without her glasses and running her eye rapidly down 
the page while the others waited in suspense. 

"Oh,” she exclaimed, as she reached the bottom of 
the sheet. "Oh, dear!” 

* i 

"What is it?” said Aunt Nell, moving, startled, 
toward her sister. 

"For goodness sake, read it, Aunt Retta,” said Polly, 
clapping her hands together, her scanty patience quite 
at an end. "Please read it.” 

Miss Henrietta looked up from the page before her, 
to stare for a moment in stern surprise at Polly, but 
her thoughts were elsewhere and when she spoke it 
was not in rebuke. 

"She’s not coming—not this year,” said Miss Henri¬ 
etta, and Polly knew by the cool, even voice that 
Aunt Retta was having to make a strong effort at 
self-control. "And after everything was settled but 
the date. I don’t like changes at the last minute.” 

"No doubt she has a good reason,” said Aunt Nell 
quietly. "Shall I read the letter aloud? I have my 
reading glasses right here.” 

"Very well,” said Miss Henrietta shortly, passing 
the letter to her sister. 

How could Aunt Retta give way to mere annoy- 


62 


LET POLLY DO IT 


ance now, thought Polly—now, at this cruel moment. 
Polly could not see that far more than annoyance was 
hidden behind the severe face, or guess that it con¬ 
cealed a disappointment almost as keen as her own. As 
for Polly, she stood before her aunts, clasping her 
hands so tightly together that they hurt, and feeling 
as if the bottom had dropped out of things. Debby 
not coining! Not this year! 

Dear Family, (began Aunt Nell) 

Forgive me for this long delay, but everything 
has been so uncertain that I have waited until I 
could send you some definite word, thinking each 
day that it would be settled. And now at last it 
is—but I don’t know quite how to tell you my 
news. For Eric has had another letter from Mr. 
Gregory of the Columbian Museum, giving him 
a commission to do some work in Rome next 
winter and so we are to stay over here until next 
spring after all. 

You know, don’t you, how hard it has been 
to make this decision, that means giving up see¬ 
ing you all in September, but we feel that Eric’s 
future is involved. Although Mr. Gregory said 
nothing definite in his letter, we read between 
the lines that he may have Eric in mind for an 
assistant curator at the Museum later on and the 
work in Rome would be an important factor in 
that, as well as giving E. material for the writing 
he already has in mind. 

You will understand how sorry, sorry we are 
not to be coming back to you this fall, after all 


PLANS AWRY 


6 3 


our plans and anticipations. It seems to me that 
I just cannot wait any longer for you to see our 
little Eleanor. She is well and rosy and full of 
energy—a real Stebbins, Aunt Retta! And we 
still think she is the image of Aunt Nell. But, as 
Eric says, it is not as if we had not had good news 
of you all winter. Spring will come before we 
know it, and we shall surely spend next summer 
at Bellport. 

I must get this into the mail at once for to¬ 
morrow’s steamer, but I will write more fully 
later. We all send much love. I am sure you 
know how we hate this long separation. 

Devotedly, 

Debby 

Miss Eleanor quietly folded the letter and put it 
into its envelope, and for a moment nobody spoke. 
Then Miss Henrietta lifted her head in a way she had 
when Stebbins affairs were under consideration. 

"Eric will make a name for himself,” she said 
proudly, all trace of annoyance gone from her face. 
"He has great talent.” 

"Debby will find much to interest her in a Roman 
winter, with the opportunities to paint,” said Miss 
Eleanor. 

Polly stared at her aunts, sitting before her with 
such dignified composure, their hands folded on their 
laps as serenely as Great-grandmother’s over the man¬ 
tel. For the moment they were incomprehensible to 
her eager youth. 


64 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"Don’t you care a bit about Debby’s not coming?” 
she said vehemently, in the full flush of her bitter dis¬ 
appointment. 

Miss Henrietta and Miss Eleanor looked at Polly 
with surprise in their delicate, high-bred faces and a 
shadow flickered across Aunt Nell’s. 

"Of course,” she said quickly. "But it is a fine 
opening for them and we must make the best of it.” 

"It is not the Stebbins way to rebel at the inevitable, 
Polly,” said Aunt Retta. "And now if you will put 
on some hot water, I think I should like a cup of tea.” 

But Polly, Stebbins though she was, felt hot rebel¬ 
lion in her heart as she walked quickly out of the 
room and along the hall to the kitchen. Debby not 
coming! Oh, it just could not be true! Polly’s long¬ 
ing for her sister never wavered, although she was 
careful that no one, not even Debby herself, should 
guess how she had counted the months and the weeks 
to the home-coming. And now there would be an¬ 
other year to wait! 

Polly detested tears and her eyes were quite dry as 
she mechanically put the kettle on and set out the 
cups for tea. Nevertheless, it seemed to her that she 
went blindly about the familiar kitchen. A few mo¬ 
ments later, with the same sense of blindness, she 
pushed open a door in the back hall and went into 
the room that had been Debby’s studio. Although 
four years had passed since Debby had gone away, 
the little workshop still seemed hers, with the easel 


PLANS AWRY 


65 


in the corner, the dried paint brushes in a jar upon the 
shelf and Great-grandfather’s carved sea-chest in 
which Debby had kept her drawing papers. Here, in 
a secret hiding place under the drawing papers, the 
family jewels had been strangely discovered six years 
ago, bringing good fortune to the Stebbins mansion, 
and clothing the old chest with a permanent charm 
and mystery. But it was because it had been Debby’s 
that Polly, whenever she was in trouble, came to sit 
on its sturdy lid to think things through. 

She sat there today, her elbows on her knees, her 
head in her hands, looking out through the open door 
that led from the studio into the garden, a thoroughly 
disconsolate Polly. Not until this moment had she 
realized how much she longed for Debby—to see her 
and little Eleanor and to talk over things about the 
aunts and college. Suddenly she sat up straight on 
the old chest, a startled look on her dark thin face. 
College! But how could she go if Debby were not to 
be here? How could Aunt Retta and Aunt Nell be 
left alone in this great house, frail as they were? From 
where she sat, she could see them now, strolling down 
the garden path together as they sometimes did before 
tea. Aunt Retta always seemed more infirm out of 
doors, picking her way carefully with her crutches, 
and Aunt Nell looked littler than ever today among 
the high bushes of the path. 

And yet how could she give up college? For a few 
minutes even the keen disappointment about Debby 


66 


LET POLLY DO IT 


faded before this dread possibility that her happy 
plans would fail. No, she just would not stay at home 
another winter, said Polly to herself with an invol¬ 
untary stamp of her foot upon the floor. It was not 
fair. Why should young people with life ahead of 
them and heaps of splendid things calling them out 
into the world, be asked to give them up for old 
people whose life was practically over? Nobody ex¬ 
pected that nowadays. Self-sacrifice and all that 
sort of thing were old-fashioned. Even such a moss- 
back as old Dr. Belcher up at the Academy had talked 
about the need for self-expression. Well, then, she, 
Polly, was not going to express herself any longer in 
Bellport. And that was that . What was it Randall 
Gage had said yesterday about the fun it must be to 
come out of a chrysalis if you were a moth—Randall 
Gage! And it would mean that she would not see him 
at Sanbornville next winter! No, of course she 
would go. 

Then through the open door Polly saw her aunts 
coming slowly back up the garden path, their heads 
held high in spite oF disappointment and infirmity 
and age. She thought of how they had sat together 
on the sofa with Debby’s letter in their hands, accept¬ 
ing with quiet dignity and no word of complaint the 
sacrifice required of them. And, with a flash of in¬ 
sight, Polly knew that in their Stebbins pride and in¬ 
dependence they themselves would never ask her to 
give up college. 


PLANS AWRY 


67 


But Polly was a Stebbins too, and deep within her 
was something that she could not disregard even if 
she would. As she looked at her old aunts coming 
toward her through the garden, Polly, who almost 
never bowed her head, put her face into her hands. 
For she suddenly knew that it was she who must tell 
them that she would not be going to Sanbornville in 
the fall. 









Chapter Five 

PUT OFF UNTIL TO-MORROW 

A s she lay in bed that night in her great square 
room at the back of the house, staring into the 
dark, Polly decided that she would tell Aunt Retta 
the very first thing in the morning. It was a Steb- 
bins habit, when disagreeable things had to be done, 
to do them at once. And having made her decision, 
Polly, who never brooded, went directly to sleep. 

But when she opened her eyes again upon the morn¬ 
ing sunshine streaming in at the high old windows, she 
found that she had the same dull ache within her 
with which she had gone to bed. It was a new ex¬ 
perience for Polly, not to wake up with fresh zest for 
the new day and she did not like it. Well, she would 
feel better, she told herself as she jumped out of bed 
when she had had her interview with Aunt Retta. 
The sooner dressing and breakfast were over, the 
sooner the whole thing would be settled. With her 
usual despatch, Polly put on her clothes, selecting 
her most becoming white shorts and blouse, and tying 


68 


PUT OFF UNTIL TO-MORROW 69 

a gay red bandeau about her perverse black hair. No 
interview with Aunt Retta was ever easy but she was 
always, as Polly well knew, susceptible to neatness. As 
Polly adjusted her bandeau before the mirror, her eye 
fell upon the latest snapshot of little Eleanor, stuck 
in the edge of the glass—a fair slender child with 
Debby’s eyes. With an impatient gesture, Polly 
turned from the mirror. Not until next year —oh, 
how could they! 

As quickly as possible Polly went down the long 
curving stairs, for it was after half past seven and 
Aunt Retta was very particular about promptness 
at meals. But when Polly came into the dining-room, 
it was Aunt Nell who was just sitting down behind 
the coffee urn. Aunt Retta had had a poor night and 
her breakfast had already been taken up. 

Aunt Nell herself looked a little worn and tired 
this morning but she was as cheerful as usual, in her 
own quiet way, speaking of the work that was to be 
done in the garden this week if the weather were fine 
and of affairs in the village, but there was no word of 
Debby. Polly was grateful to Aunt Nell for this, for 
she felt that she could not have borne it there at the 
breakfast table where there was no escape. Aunt 
Nelly always knew and avoided the things that hurt. 
It was not until they rose from the table that the 
subject that filled both their minds was at last 
broached. 

"I shall write to Debby this morning,” said Aunt 


70 


LET POLLY DO IT 


Nell, as she went toward the kitchen with the coffee 
urn. "Would you like to put a word in, Polly? ,, 

"Yes, please,” said Polly, turning abruptly toward 
the opposite door. "I will get Aunt Retta’s tray now 
and be sure to leave the errands for me.” 

Arrived at Aunt Retta’s door, Polly knocked and 
went in. Miss Henrietta was lying in the big four- 
poster, her aristocratic head against a pile of pillows, 
her long slender hands spread upon the counterpane. 
The lavender of her bed jacket made her face look 
even paler than usual and the listlessness of her atti¬ 
tude on the pillows gave her, who usually sat so erect, 
an air of being really ill. Polly was a little startled as 
she came across the room toward the bed. 

"Good morning, Aunt Retta,” she said, trying to 
sound as cheerful as usual. "I’m sorry you had a bad 
night. Are you through with your tray?” 

"Yes, please take it,” said Miss Henrietta, with re¬ 
assuring energy, and a gesture toward the bedside 
table, her eyes meanwhile looking her niece critically 
up and down. 

It struck Polly that it was going to be less easy than 
usual this morning to talk to Aunt Retta about any¬ 
thing. Her resolve was made, however, and here she 
was beside the bed, so, standing very straight, the tray 
in her hands, she looked directly down at the stiff 
figure against the pillows. 

"There is something I want to say to you, Aunt 
Retta,” began Polly—and hesitated for a moment. It 


PUT OFF UNTIL TO-MORROW 71 

was an unfortunate hesitation, for at that moment 
Aunt Retta herself spoke. 

"And there is something I have wished for some 
time to say to you, Polly,” she said firmly. "I believe 
I shall have to tell you that I don’t like seeing you in 
shorts.” And her eyes fastened themselves upon the 
crisp, abbreviated garment which had been selected 
with such forethought. 

Polly stared at her aunt in astonishment at this un¬ 
expected turn in the conversation. 

"Do you mean that you prefer my slacks, Aunt 
Retta?” she enquired, with the flicker of a smile. 

Miss Henrietta regarded the thin keen face above 
the breakfast tray, and thought with a secret dash 
of pride that Polly certainly had the Stebbins gift of 
repartee. 

"I do not think you intend to be pert, Polly,” she 
said stiffly, "but I cannot have you speak to me like 
that.” 

"I’m sorry, Aunt Retta,” replied Polly, who always 
looked more pert than she felt, "but you see I have to 
wear that kind of clothes at my work.” 

"That is another thing I wish to talk to you about,” 
continued Miss Henrietta, a slight flush coming into 
her pale cheeks. "I should have spoken of it yesterday 
if—if the other matter had not put it out of my mind. 
When I was driving with Judge Parker in the morn¬ 
ing I saw for the first time a sign on a tree up the 
road, which I am afraid you are responsible for, and 


72 


LET POLLY DO IT 


which I wish removed before this day is over.” 

"But it brings in business, Aunt Retta,” explained 
Polly. "And I thought you would rather have it 
there than on the gate.” 

"The gate?” repeated Aunt Retta. "I am not quite 
sure what you mean, Polly, but I hope that you under¬ 
stand that I will not have the Stebbins name, and 
yours, paraded cheaply along the highroad like that. 
Are there other signs anywhere else?” 

"No,” said Polly, feeling her customary good 
nature slipping a little. 

"Will you see, then, that this one is taken down at 
once?” Aunt Retta’s lips were a very thin straight 
line. "Or shall I have it removed?” 

"I don’t think I want it taken down,” said Polly 
slowly, looking directly at Aunt Retta, her own lips 
rather tight. 

"Do you mean that you defy me, Polly?” Aunt 
Retta raised herself slightly from her pillows. It was 
seldom that these two, high-spirited though they both 
were, had a really serious encounter. 

"No,” said Polly. "But business is business, and I’ve 
got to advertise. You yourself wouldn’t want a Steb¬ 
bins enterprise to go to pieces, would you, Aunt 
Retta, after it had made a good start?” 

"I will not have that sign on that tree,” repeated 
Miss Henrietta. "And I will not have shorts going 
about the Stebbins mansion. Have I made myself 
clear, Polly?” 


PUT OFF UNTIL TO-MORROW 


73 


"Yes, perfectly, Aunt Retta,” said Polly. And 
without another word she turned and walked out of 
the room. 

Could any one be expected to make sacrifices, when 
it meant putting up with that sort of thing? said Polly 
to herself, her head held as high as Aunt Retta’s, as she 
went down the stairs with the tray. It would cer¬ 
tainly be some time before the subject of staying at 
home would be broached, so far as she was concerned. 
As for the sign on the tree, Aunt Retta could have it 
removed herself, if she chose. She, Polly would leave 
it where it was. 

Having left the tray in the kitchen, Polly walked 
quickly through the hall toward the front door. She 
felt suddenly a strong desire to get away from the 
house—to be out in Flossie along the roads, in the 
freshness of the clear summer morning. But as she 
went by the door of the drawing-room, she caught a 
glimpse of Aunt Nell sitting at the old secretary. 
How characteristic of Aunt Nelly, thought Polly, 
pausing at the door, to be quietly writing to Debby, 
while she and Aunt Retta squabbled upstairs. For a 
moment she seemed to see what Aunt Nelly’s life had 
been all these years in the Stebbins mansion. Poor 
Aunt Nelly! Impulsively Polly turned back along 
the hall, and going into Debby’s workshop and sitting 
down at the table by the window, she wrote a note 
to her sister on a piece of Debby’s old drawing-paper 
which she found in the drawer. What she said she 


74 


LET POLLY DO IT 


hardly knew herself, but it was a Stebbins letter, with 
no word of complaint for what must be. Then, hav¬ 
ing given it to Aunt Nell for enclosure in hers, Polly 
went out the front door and down the walk to her car 
with some measure of returning cheerfulness. 

As Flossie started off down the Stebbins hill, Polly 
decided that she would drive to the Gages’. She had 
half promised Philip and Alexander that they might 
go with her after kittens. The twins were always 
diverting, and Mrs. Gage would welcome the sight of 
Flossie at any time of day. Besides, perhaps Randall 
might have some commission for her. He was usually 
at home in the early morning. 

She was hardly more than halfway up West Hill 
before she saw, as usual, the square figures of Philip 
and Alexander running on sturdy legs down the road 
toward the car. It seemed that the twins must keep 
a perpetual look-out for her, so invariably did they 
come hastening to meet her. 

"Hello,” said Polly, stopping the car, while a twin 
clambered on each running board. "Want to go for 
a ride?” 

"Sure we do!” shouted Philip, and they both 
jumped up and down for joy. 

"Then go and ask Uncle Ranny if you may,” said 
Polly. 

"He’s out,” said Philip, "but we’ll ask Granny.” 

And away went the twins toward the cottage. 

Almost before Polly had had time to turn the car, 


PUT OFF UNTIL TO-MORROW 


75 


they were back, squeezing in together on the seat 
beside her, Philip first, because he always carried on 
the conversation. They were hardly seated and the 
engine started before he began. 

"'You’re coming to Sanbornville to live next year, 
aren’t you?” he said, looking up at Polly, with eyes 
very bright and eager. "And we can have fun all 
the time, can’t we?” 

"Who told you that?” asked Polly, surprised out of 
her usual composure at the broaching of the subject 
at this particular moment. 

"Uncle Ranny,” said Philip. "He says you’re com¬ 
ing to the college where he and my father teach. 
Will you come over to our house every day?” 

"Where is your father this summer?” enquired 
Polly, thinking to change the conversation. 

"He went away on a big boat,” said Philip, "and 
Mummy went too— Will you come to our house?” 

"I don’t know,” Polly sighed. "I may not go to 
Sanbornville at all.” 

"Why not?” demanded Philip, while both he and 
Alexander stared up at her with round eyes. Their 
faces looked so solemn and dismayed that Polly 
laughed. 

"Your president has never seen me, you know,” 
she said. "Perhaps he wouldn’t want me.” 

"Yes, he would,” Philip declared loyally. 

"We’ll tell him you’re all right,” said Alexander 
unexpectedly. 


76 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"He’ll like you,” Philip announced with convic¬ 
tion. "We do, and Uncle Ranny and Granny and— 
and everybody.” 

"Look here,” said Polly, bringing Flossie to a sud¬ 
den stop, where a heavy gate barred the way into a 
wood road, "that’s a short cut to the main highway. 
I don’t suppose you two are strong enough to open 
that gate, are you?” 

"Yes, we are!” cried Philip, tumbling over Alex¬ 
ander, as they both scrambled from the car. 

Polly watched with amusement, while the twins 
fumbled anxiously with the big hook, and set their 
sturdy shoulders to the creaking bars. When Flossie 
was through the gate and the twins had hooked it 
again, Polly was glad to find that they had apparently 
forgotten the subject of college. 

"This is a jolly road,” she said, as they squeezed 
into the front seat once more, "with lots of bumps. 
And just at the end of it there’s a house with three 
black kittens in it.” 

"Can we bring them back with us?” Philip de¬ 
manded. 

"Yes,” said Polly. 

It was sweet and still in the wood road and there 
were plenty of jolly bumps as Polly had said. The 
twins, sitting very straight and looking ahead under 
the sugar maples for the end of the road, jounced up 
and down and sideways against each other and Polly. 
Presently they saw a little house among the trees. 


PUT OFF UNTIL TO-MORROW 77 

Philip pointed to it. "Is that where the black kit¬ 
tens are?” 

"No,” said Polly, "it’s a sugar house.” 

"But it’s brown,” objected Philip, "and sugar is 
white.” 

"It’s a maple sugar house,” laughed Polly. 

The twins looked back at it regretfully as they 
jounced along further into the woods. After a while 
Flossie ran out from among the trees, and there was 
the main highway, a thin white ribbon of cement 
stretching far away over the green hills to Sanborn- 
ville. By the side of the highway was a small un¬ 
painted house. A girl in a shabby cotton dress was 
standing on the porch, and as soon as she saw Polly 
drawing up at the gate she turned and went into the 
house. When she came out she was carrying three 
fluffy black kittens. 

"We want to hold them,” said Philip, as he and 
Alexander scrambled over the front seat into the back 
of the car. 

When the kittens had been passed in through the 
window, and the girl had received her money, Polly 
turned Flossie down the highway. 

"Want to go summer coasting?” she asked, glanc¬ 
ing around at the twins. 

"Yes,” said both Philip and Alexander. 

In a moment they were sliding down the long ce¬ 
ment slope, the twins on the edge of the back seat, 
clutching the kittens, Polly lifting her head to the 


78 


LET POLLY DO IT 


fresh, clean breeze that blew in at the window. It 
seemed to blow away all the tiresome business of the 
early morning. They went on and on for a long ride, 
with ice cream cones at the end of it, and it was not 
until they were returning home along the highway 
that the joy of the day was broken. 

"Oh!” said Philip suddenly, in a tone of consterna¬ 
tion. And Polly looked back just in time to see him 
drawing a folded slip of paper from his pocket. 

"It’s for you,” said Philip, handing it over the back 
of the seat. 

On the outside of the paper were the words, "Miss 
Polly Stebbins,” and on the inside it read as follows: 

Dear Polly, 

Could you give me an hour or two this morn¬ 
ing with the moths? I want to get them done 
today, to ship this week. I shall be back by 
10:30, and we could work until twelve. 

Yours, 

Randall Gage. 

Polly glanced at her wrist watch. It was a quarter 
of twelve. 

"Where did you get this note?” she demanded. 
Philip had never before heard Polly speak in that tone 
of voice, and he was dismayed. 

"It—it was pinned on our front door, but we took 
it so we could give it to you,” he said, finding it a 
comfort to include Alexander in the sin. 


PUT OFF UNTIL TO-MORROW 


79 


"Why didn’t you, then?” said Polly, in the same 
ominous voice, without looking around. 

"I—we forgot,” stuttered Philip. 

"Well, the next time you find anything with a 
name on it, you will go straight to the owner with it. 
Have I made myself clear?” said Polly, imitating Aunt 
Retta’s voice, with the flicker of a smile, which the 
twins could not see. 

"Yes,” said Philip, almost below his breath. 

Polly stepped on the accelerator, and in less than 
fifteen minutes Flossie was bouncing up West Hill. 
Randall Gage was standing in front of the cottage as 
they came up. With a nod to Polly, he came to open 
the door for the twins, taking care this time that there 
should be no escaping kittens. 

"I’m no end sorry,” said Polly, when she had ex¬ 
plained about the note to Randall, whose attention 
seemed to be taken up with ruffling the hair of the 
twins. "I suppose I’m too late for the moths.” 

He turned to her then, with one of his sudden 
smiles of good comradeship. 

"No, you’re not,” he said with pleasant decision. 
"I kept them for to-morrow, hoping to let Polly do 
it. Can you come?” 

Polly tried her best to look indifferent but she 
found it impossible. 

"Yes,” she said, her face more vivid than she knew, 
as she looked through the window at Randall, with a 
twin on either side. Philip and Alexander stood, wist- 


80 


LET POLLY DO IT 


ful and subdued, their eyes on Polly. Suddenly she 
turned and, reaching over the back of the seat, picked 
up one of the kittens. 

"Will you remember to feed it every single day, if 
I give it to you?” she said, holding the kitten through 
the window. 

"Oh, yes,” cried both the twins, their faces full of 
happiness again. 

Dropping the kitten into Philip’s outstretched 
hands, Polly turned abruptly to the wheel of her 
car. In spite of everything, the world was a pretty 
nice place after all! 







Chapter Six 

WHERE, OH, WHERE? 

P olly, in working slacks and an old dark blouse, 
squatted before the oil stove in a corner of the 
shed, prodding the wick of one of the burners with a 
fork. On the other burner stood a kettle of half- 
cooked fish, while behind Polly and on both sides of 
her a swarm of kittens sniffed the fragrant steam with 
hungry noses, and rubbed themselves first against her 
and then against the legs of the stove. Suddenly, with 
an impatient shake of her head, she got up from the 
floor and, picking her way among the kittens, walked 
over to the window that looked toward the Eatons’. 

Twice she gave the whistle with which she always 
summoned Zab, and stood, her dark brows drawn to¬ 
gether in a frown, watching for her obedient servant. 
But he did not appear. What a nuisance, thought 
Polly. Where on earth could he be? He had a way 
lately of disappearing whenever she particularly 
wanted him. And now she needed him for the stove. 
It was funny how Zabbie could always seem to hyp¬ 
notize that old stove into working decently. 


81 


82 


LET POLLY DO IT 


Still frowning, she turned back toward it. Just 
at that moment the outer door of the shed opened 
and there stood Zab, his face redder than usual and, 
Polly fancied, a little self-conscious, if not actually 
guilty. 

"Well, there you are,” she said. "I should say it 
was about time you appeared. It was your turn to boil 
the fish for the kittens. Where have you been all the 
afternoon?” 

"Whew!” said Zab, dodging her question, as he 
walked across the shed toward the smoking wick. 
"Why don’t you cook the cats’ fish in the kitchen, 
instead of fussing with this old stove?” 

"It has never been the custom of the Stebbins man¬ 
sion,” said Polly, in the unmistakable voice of Aunt 
Retta, "to tolerate within its walls the aroma of day- 
before-yesterday’s hake—stupid. Fix that wick, will 
you, like an angel. You’re pretty useful, you know.” 
She held out the fork, with a smile. 

Zab, however, disregarding the fork, took a large 
jackknife out of his pocket with which he went to 
work upon the wick. Boys, even Zab, always some¬ 
how managed to have a better equipment than girls 
for meeting life, thought Polly, watching him on his 
knees before the stove, the kittens clambering over 
his legs. The day was sultry, and Zabbie’s red face 
looked more hot and moist than usual as he struggled 
with the wick. 

"I don’t know why you want to bother with these 


WHERE, OH WHERE? 


83 


kittens and their fish, anyway,” he said, with unex¬ 
pected peevishness. "You don’t even know what 
you’re going to do with the money when you get it.” 

Polly looked down in astonishment at the bent 
shoulders. She could not remember a time when Zab- 
bie had not been both willing and eager in her service. 

"Who said I didn’t, Mr. Eaton?” she retorted aus¬ 
terely. "I have a very worthy Cause, if I cared to re¬ 
veal it to you. And, by the way, I believe you did not 
answer my question as to where you had been, and 
why you did not come with the fish the middle of the 
afternoon.” 

Before Zab could reply there was a sudden roll of 
distant thunder. 

"Oh, dash it all!” exclaimed Polly, going swiftly to 
the window, and looking out. "It’s awfully black in 
the west. I’ll have to go right away. Last time I 
didn’t get there until the storm was almost over, and 
Miss Pickett was nearly in a faint.” 

Zab stood up and looked across the room toward 
the window, through which the lightning was already 
vivid in the sky. 

"You can’t go out now, Polly,” he said. "It’s going 
to be a big storm.” 

"That’s just it,” replied Polly. "Miss Pickett’s 
scared to death of big ones. I don’t mind—except 
that she always wants to hold my hand,” added Polly, 
with a wry smile. "But then, she gives me twenty- 
five cents every time.” 



84 


LET POLLY DO IT 


There was a still louder clap of thunder. The storm 
was evidently approaching rapidly. 

'Til have to go just as I am,” said Polly hurriedly, 
glancing at her disreputable slacks, "and you’ll have 
to finish the fish, Zabbie, and feed the kittens.” As 
she spoke, she snatched up one of the kittens from the 
floor. "We’d be lost without Zabbie, wouldn’t we?” 
she added, holding it against her cheek. 

Then, hastily dropping the kitten, and taking an 
old canvas hat from a nail, she ran out of the shed. 
Flossie was standing just outside, and jumping into 
the car, Polly went bounding out of the yard and 
down the Thomaston road. The thunder and light¬ 
ning were heavy and sharp now, and the sky through 
the elms behind her was inky black, but the road was 
still dry and Polly pushed Flossie to the limit of her 
rattling speed, racing the storm. Miss Pickett’s house 
was already in sight before at last the downpour was 
upon them. A minute later Polly had parked Flos¬ 
sie outside the small yellow cottage, and was dash¬ 
ing up the gravel path through the rain to the door. 
It was hastily opened and closed by Miss Pickett her¬ 
self, who was waiting, white and trembling, just 
inside. 

"I thought you’d forgotten, Polly,” she said, lead¬ 
ing the way across the room to a sofa, as distant as 
possible from the windows, over which the shades 
had been tightly drawn. "Do you think it’s going to 
last very long? Do you want to light the lamp?” 



It was hastily opened . 








































WHERE, OH WEIERE? 


87 


No,” said Polly, who had had enough of kerosene 
wicks for one day. "It will be over pretty soon.” 

But Polly was wrong. For almost an hour the storm 
continued with unabated fury, while she sat on the 
sofa, holding, like a martyr, the little shaking hand, 
and recounting all the amusing things that she could 
think of in connection with her business. Miss Pick¬ 
ett was normally interested in cats, owning, in fact, 
the handsomest one in Bellport, which had once taken 
a prize at a Portland cat show, but today she did not 
seem to get the point of anything and Polly thought 
that the storm would never end. 

At last, however, the shades of the two little win¬ 
dows no longer flashed into vivid squares of yellow, 
and the thunder became only a distant mutter down 
the coast. Polly looked at her wrist watch and got 
up from the sofa. 

"It’s almost six,” she said. "I shall have to go now.” 

"Couldn’t you stay for supper?” suggested Miss 
Pickett anxiously, taking a quarter from the pocket 
of her apron, as she followed Polly across the room. 
"We might have another storm, you know—and I 
have raised biscuits all ready for the oven.” 

"No,” said Polly decidedly, opening the front door. 
"Thanks just the same, but I must run along. It 
won’t rain any more. See, there’s a clear streak in the 
west already. You’d better be looking for a rainbow, 
Miss Pickett.” And she ran down the path, turning 
to wave gaily to the still anxious little person in the 


88 


LET POLLY DO IT 


doorway. What must it be like, thought Miss Pickett, 
to be as energetic and unafraid as that? 

Polly drew a long breath as she slammed the door 
of the car. What a relief to be out of that stuffy par¬ 
lor, with a wheel, instead of those trembling fingers 
in one’s hand. It must be a bore to be so scared of 
things. And how jolly it was after the rain. A slant¬ 
ing ray of sunshine through the breaking clouds made 
every leaf along the road sparkle and all the sweetness 
of the pastures seemed to have been washed into the 
air. Polly drove along through the summer evening, 
feeling more happy and exhilarated than she had felt 
since the day Debby’s letter had come. Across the 
wet pastures to the right she could see West Hill and 
the Gage cottage with the sunset behind it. To-mor¬ 
row the twins were to be away with their grand¬ 
mother again and she was going up to work in the 
shed laboratory with Randall. Polly smiled. 

She was still smiling as she drove past the big oak 
where she and Zab had nailed the sign. Looking up 
quickly, she saw that it was still there. Aunt Retta’s 
bark was always worse than her bite. But the sign 
brought back to Polly thoughts of that interview two 
days ago in Aunt Retta’s bedroom, and her face 
sobered. Her acute sense of annoyance with her aunt 
had disappeared—as it always did, for Polly did not 
harbor grudges—but she had not again brought her¬ 
self to the point of speaking about next winter. Well, 


WHERE, OH WHERE? 


89 


probably she would better get it over with tonight 
after supper. Polly sighed as she drove Flossie into 
the yard of the Stebbins mansion. But the interview 
was not to be this evening. 

There was a slight constraint at the supper table, 
for Polly, having to change from the disreputable 
slacks into a dress, was late in coming downstairs, and 
Aunt Retta in her black silk sat stiffly behind the sil¬ 
ver tea service. Polly tried to enliven the conversa¬ 
tion with an account of her afternoon but it was not 
altogether a success. 

"Such a fool as Maria Pickett should not be allowed 
to live alone,” said Miss Henrietta. "And I certainly 
don’t see why she should expect other people’s meal 
hours to be interfered with because she is afraid of 
thunder.” 

"Oh, she’s not without her good points, Aunt 
Retta,” said Polly, her head a little on one side, as 
she looked across the table. "She said today there was 
no family like the Stebbinses in all Bellport.” 

"Humph,” said Miss Henrietta, wtih raised eye¬ 
brows, as she rose from the table, "Maria and all the 
Picketts have good reason to know that.” 

What did Aunt Retta mean by that? thought Polly, 
ever curious, as she carried out the plates. She must 
ask Aunt Nell while they were washing the dishes. 
But this was not to be either. For before the table 
was cleared, the telephone rang, and Polly in the 


90 


LET POLLY DO IT 


kitchen could hear Aunt Nell taking an arresting 
message in the back hall. 

''What!” said Aunt Nell’s usually quiet voice in 
quick, startled tones. "The twins? No, they’re not. 
Oh, no, we haven’t. When? Oh, dear, dear. Yes— 
yes—of course she will. I’ll tell her at once. Polly,” 
said Aunt Nell, putting down the receiver, and turn¬ 
ing hastily toward the kitchen, where Polly stood 
transfixed in the doorway, with a dish in each hand, 
"the little Gage twins have run away—after they 
were put to bed—and young Mr. Gage wants to 
know if you will lend him your car to hunt for them. 
His is in the garage.” 

"Of course,” said Polly, putting the dishes on the 
chair, and rushing through Debby’s studio and the 
side door to the driveway, where Flossie stood. 

In less than ten minutes Polly was rattling up West 
Hill. Halfway up the headlights suddenly revealed 
a figure striding down the road toward the car. It 
was Randall. Polly brought Flossie to a creaking stop, 
and flung open the door. For a moment before he 
jumped in beside her, she had a glimpse of his face 
which was haggard and sober. 

"Thanks for coming,” he said. "You’re a brick. 
I knew I could count on you.” 

"Where do you want to go?” asked Polly, in a voice 
that sounded strangely flat in her own ears, thrilled 
as she was by his tone of confident friendship. 

"Back to the house,” he said shortly. "Do you 


WHERE, OH WHERE? 91 

mind staying with Mother, while I go out with the 
car?” 

"Why—no—of course not,” said Polly, annoyed 
with herself for feeling, at such a moment, a twinge 
of disappointment. "How did it happen? Have you 
any clues?” 

"No,” said Randall, "not one. When I looked into 
their room half an hour ago they had vanished. Never 
got into bed at all. But their flashlight was gone, and 
their sweaters.” 

Nothing more was said until Flossie drew up in 
front of the white cottage, and Polly jumped out. 

"I shall go along the Bascom Bay road,” said Ran¬ 
dall to her through the window of the car, "and then 
over to the main highway, and out to the little circus 
they saw the other day when they were driving with 
Mother. It would be exactly like them to decide to 
join it. If I don’t get a line on them there I shall 
notify the police, and Fll call you later from some¬ 
where.” With a nod of his head, he was off, plunging 
down the hill into the darkness. Mrs. Gage, white 
and frightened, opened the door for Polly. 

"Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come,” she said, in a voice 
that shook. "I don’t see how I could have stayed here 
alone. Randall has been down to the pond, but there 
was nothing to be found. You don’t think they would 
go there, do you?” she added, looking up into Polly’s 
face, with scared eyes. 

"No,” said Polly at once, with reassuring calm. 



92 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"They’re too smart. There wouldn’t be anything to 
do there at night. I’m sure they’ve gone off along 
the roads. They’re always wanting to explore things, 
you know.” 

Somewhat relieved by Polly’s confident words, Mrs. 
Gage walked across the room, and drew a small sofa 
toward the lamp. 

"If only we could do something,” she said, clasp¬ 
ing her hands, "but I suppose we can only sit down 
here together and wait.” 

"I’ll stay by the window, if you don’t mind,” said 
Polly, "Then I can see anything coming.” The day 
had seemed all too full of little frightened women on 
sofas, with hands to be held. 

But in a few minutes Mrs. Gage was up again, mov¬ 
ing restlessly from the window to the door, and back 
to Polly at the window. 

"You don’t suppose they could have gone to the 
docks, or along the railroad, do you?” she said, her 
face suddenly full of fresh anxiety. 

"No,” said Polly, with an assurance she no longer 
felt, as time went on, and the telephone did not ring. 
"I think Randall will find them at the little circus— 
or somewhere.” 

But at half past nine Randall telephoned that he 
had not been able to find any trace of Philip and 
Alexander, either at the circus grounds or along the 
roads. He had notified the constable, who had tele¬ 
phoned the police at Thomaston. He himself had 



WHERE, OH WHERE? 


93 


been to half the houses in Bellport but nobody had 
seen the twins. He was just starting out along the 
Thomaston road again, and he did not know how 
far he might have to go. He urged that his mother 
go to bed, as there was nothing she could do. "Tell 
her the boys are bound to turn up safe and sound in 
the morning,” he ended, and hung up the receiver. 

Never, thought Polly, had there been such a long 
night. It was twelve before distracted little Mrs. 
Gage could be induced to lie down upon her bed, but 
she was up again immediately to ask if Polly thought 
it possible that Philip and Alexander had fallen into 
the quarry behind the Daggett farm. By two she had 
quite convinced herself, and had almost persuaded 
Polly, that the twins had been kidnapped. And it was 
not until just before dawn, when Polly had gone to 
make her a cup of coffee, that she fell at last into an 
exhausted sleep. 

Polly, pausing at the door with the coffee, was 
suddenly aware of a familiar rattle somewhere out¬ 
side, which became every moment more distinct. 
Hastily setting the cup on the table by the bed, she 
flew down the stairs, and opened the front door just 
as Flossie came to a stop before the steps. Her heart 
sank as she saw that there was nobody but Randall 
in the car. 

"Haven’t you heard anything?” she faltered, going 
down to the car. 

"No,” said Randall wearily, his hands still on the 


94 


LET POLLY DO IT 


wheel. "How’s mother?” In the faint dawn his face 
looked gray as well as haggard. 

"She’s asleep,” said Polly. "Come in and I’ll get 
you a cup of coffee. I’ve got some all ready.” 

"I can’t stop,” said Randall. "I must go back at 
once. As soon as it’s light enough we’re going to 
comb the woods between here and Thomaston— 
though I don’t believe anything will come of it. If 
they were really running away, they may have hid¬ 
den in the edge of the woods for the night, but they 
would never go far in. Towns and houses are what 
the twins like to explore.” 

"They might have tried a short cut,” suggested 
Polly. "It’s a long way, you know, around to the 
highway by the Bascom Bay-” She stopped speak¬ 

ing, and her face, which had been for so many hours 
unusually sober, grew suddenly vivid, as it did when 
Polly was visited by one of her quick intuitions. 

"Randall,” she cried, running around the car, and 
getting swiftly into the seat beside him, "quick! Step 
on the gas. I know now!” 

For all at once Polly had guessed where Philip and 
Alexander had spent the night! 



Chapter Seven 

MIDSUMMER NIGHTMARE 

I T was half past six on the evening of the storm, and 
Philip and Alexander, in blue cotton pajamas, 
were leaning over the railing in the upper hall of the 
Gage cottage, listening intently. They had had their 
supper and were supposed to be in bed, but the twins 
were not often where they were expected to be. 

''They’ve gone into the dining-room,” whispered 
Philip. "Now’s the time.” 

"We’ll have to hurry,” Alexander whispered back. 
"Granny will come up as soon as she’s through, and 
we must be across the field by then.” Though he 
spoke little, Alexander was an excellent manager. 

The twins tip-toed back into their room and 
slipped out of their pajamas. They dressed themselves 
as quickly as they could, helping each other with 
buttons, and not stopping to tie their sneakers. Then 
Philip took a flashlight and Alexander a paper bag 
containing four doughnuts, which had been con¬ 
cealed in the back of the closet since morning, and 


95 


96 


LET POLLY DO IT 


they tip-toed out into the hall again. When they 
were halfway down the stairs Alexander remem¬ 
bered the sweaters and insisted upon going back for 
them, although Philip, who was one step farther 
down, tried to restrain him by holding his leg. 

"It will be cold,” said Alexander, who was very 
determined, and he pulled himself free, and crept 
back to their room, leaving Philip, very scared, upon 
the stairs. Philip could hear Granny and Uncle 
Ranny talking in the dining-room, and once there 
was the sound of a chair scraping on the floor. He 
was sure that Uncle Ranny was coming out. But 
almost immediately Alexander was back with the 
sweaters, and a moment later the twins found them¬ 
selves safely outside the screen door and around the 
corner of the house. 

"We must go across the field that way,” said Alex¬ 
ander, pointing. "Then they can’t see us from the 
dining-room. When we get to the woods it will be 
all right.” 

It was wet after the storm and the grass felt very 
cold against their ankles, as the twins scampered 
across the field toward the woods on the other side 
of the stone wall. They did not dare to look behind 
them and they expected every moment to hear the 
voice of Uncle Ranny who had a way, if the sunset 
were fine, of getting up from the supper table and 
going to the bay window to look out. The twins 
themselves seldom noticed sunsets but they were 


MIDSUMMER NIGHTMARE 


97 


afraid, from the evident glow behind them as they 
ran, that there was a fine one going on tonight. 

They reached the edge of the field in safety, how¬ 
ever, and clambered over the stone wall among the 
trees. Breathless, they sat down on the ground be¬ 
hind the wall to perfect their plans. Philip wished to 
eat one of the doughnuts at once but Alexander held 
tightly to the bag. 

"We’ll want them by-and-bye,” he said. "We’ve 
got to walk a long way.” 

"How do we get to the road?” said Philip, looking 
a little nervously over his shoulder into the woods 
which seemed already rather forbidding in the sum¬ 
mer dusk. 

"We’ll have to walk through the trees,” said Alex¬ 
ander, who, when it came to doing things, was always 
more enterprising and unafraid than Philip, "until 
we come to the road where Polly took us. Then we 
can get to the highway.” 

"Do you think it will be very far on the highway?” 
asked Philip. 

"Yes,” Alexander replied, "sixty or thirty miles— 
but some one in a car will give us a ride, if we stand 
by the road and wave. So we’ll get there tonight and 
then we’ll come back in the morning.” 

"All right,” said Philip. "Let’s start now. It’s get¬ 
ting dark.” 

But just as the twins got cautiously up on their 
knees to peer over the wall who should suddenly jump 


9 8 


LET POLLY DO IT 


up on it from the other side but Inky Winky, the lit¬ 
tle black cat which Polly had given to them. 

The twins were horrified. 

'"We can’t take him!” Philip was in despair. 

"Go home!” said Alexander, clapping his hands 
hard. 

But Inky Winky, soaked from his scamper through 
the grass, liked it on the dry wall and rubbed himself 
back and forth against the noses of the twins, purring 
cheerfully. 

"Let’s run like the dickens,” said Philip, scrambling 
to his feet. "Perhaps we can get away from him.” 

So the twins ran as fast as they could in among the 
trees, not even noticing in what direction they were 
going, in their haste to leave Inky Winky behind. 
They ran until they were out of breath, and when at 
last they stopped and looked back, they were pleased 
to find that there was no longer any Inky Winky to 
be seen. But the woods had grown very dark. 

"Which is the way to Polly’s road?” faltered Philip. 

"I guess it’s this way,” said Alexander, walking 
straight ahead. 

"My sneaker’s come off,” said Philip, "and the flash¬ 
light won’t work.” 

The twins stood close together in the now dark 
woods, and tried in vain to turn on the flash. Then 
they groped blindly around on the ground for the 
sneaker but they could not find it. 

"I want to go home,” said Philip, shivering. 


MIDSUMMER NIGHTMARE 


99 


"All right,” agreed Alexander, and they both 
turned and walked in the opposite direction. 

But the farther they walked, the thicker the trees 
seemed to become, and the more roots there were 
to stumble over. Alexander remembered the story of 
the Babes in the Wood, which Granny had read to 
them and clutched his bag of doughnuts more tightly. 
Once Philip walked directly into a tree and bumped 
his nose. 

"When shall we come to a house or something?” 
said Philip, swallowing hard. 

Just then the moon came out of the clouds, shed¬ 
ding a strange dim light among the trees—and there 
before them actually stood a house. It was small and 
perfectly dark, but it had a door and two windows, 
and a little platform at the front, on which stood 
several pails. 

"It’s the maple sugar house!” cried Philip, running 
up close to it, and thrusting his tongue out against it. 
"But it’s not a bit sweet,” he added, in a disappointed 
voice. 

"It’s just made of wood like any house,” said Alex¬ 
ander, trying the latch of the door. "But we could 
go in and stay until it’s light again—if nobody lives 
10 it. 

The door was unlocked and, lifting the latch, the 
twins tip-toed inside. Peering anxiously around, they 
saw by the moonlight that there was nobody there. 
It was a bare little room, with an unmade bunk under 


100 


LET POLLY DO IT 


the windows at each side, a rough chair and table, and 
a shelf on which stood a frying pan, a few plates and 
cups, and some rusty looking cans of provisions. 

"You don’t suppose a witch lives here, do you?” 
whispered Philip, remembering Hansel and Gretel. 

"No, I guess not,” said Alexander, doubtfully. 
"We’ll lock the door anyway.” 

When they had set the big hook into the staple, 
they walked cautiously across the room. 

"I tell you what,” suggested Alexander. "I can 
watch out of this window, and you can watch out 
of that one, and if we see a witch we can run out.” 

"But what if she comes up to the door?” 

"We can jump out of the windows,” said Alex¬ 
ander. 

So they sat down on the bunks. 

"I wish that branch or something didn’t keep 
scratching on the roof,” said Philip after a moment 
or two. 

"I guess we’ll be all right in here,” said Alexander. 

"Let’s eat the doughnuts,” suggested Philip. 

"Perhaps there’s preserve in some of those cans,” 
said Alexander. "We could spread it on the dough¬ 
nuts.” He walked over to the shelf and succeeded, 
with the help of the chair, in taking down one of 
the cans. He carried it over to the window and they 
both peered anxiously at the label. Although the 
twins were not very good readers, they knew the word 
jam when they saw it, but the moon had gone under 


MIDSUMMER NIGHTMARE 


101 


a cloud and it was too dark to make out anything. 

"We’ll open it anyhow,” said Alexander. 

So he groped around again on the shelf until he 
found a can opener, and between them, with sev¬ 
eral bruised fingers, they finally managed to open 
the can. 

"Oh, I know,” said Philip, "it’s salmon.” 

They both put their noses down and sniffed. Then 
they found a knife and spread the salmon on the 
doughnuts, sitting on the bunks where they could 
keep watch through the windows. 

"It tastes funny, doesn’t it?” said Philip. 

"Sort of,” agreed Alexander. 

They munched in silence for a few minutes while 
the branch scritch-scratched across the roof and the 
dim light made queer shadows in the corners of the 
room. 

"Look,” said Philip suddenly, "there’s something 
dark over there by that tree, and it’s moving.” 

"What?” said Alexander, running across to Phil¬ 
ip’s window. 

The twins pressed their faces against the panes and 
peered out, but the moon was still under a cloud, 
and they could not make out anything very dis¬ 
tinctly. Something black, however, was certainly 
moving around among the tree stumps in the clear¬ 
ing. 

"Shall we go out and see?” said Alexander doubt¬ 
fully. 


102 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"No” Philip replied decidedly. 

"We’ll both yell and scare it,” suggested Alexander. 

"No,” said Philip. "What if it was a witch?” 

"I don’t believe in witches,” said Alexander stur¬ 
dily. "We’ll throw something at it.” 

The twins looked around the dark room for a 
weapon. 

"I know,” said Alexander, "we’ll throw the salmon 
can. We can open the window.” 

So the twins put their four hands on the window 
sash and pushed as hard as they could. After a min¬ 
ute it went up with a bang. The black thing out 
in the clearing jumped a little, and Alexander, lean¬ 
ing out as far as he could, threw the salmon can in 
the direction of the jump. He aimed well for im¬ 
mediately there was a yelp, but no witch went soar¬ 
ing off on a broomstick. Instead the black thing 
bounded away over the ground on four legs. 

"It’s a dog,” said Philip, as the moon came out 
from under its cloud and showed the twins a big 
collie running for home, with its tail between its 
legs. 

The woods, as far as they could see, were bright 
and empty again and the twins, greatly relieved, set¬ 
tled themselves once more for the night’s watch. 
They lay on their tummies in the bunks, their square 
little faces propped on their hands, and looked out 
of the windows. It was cool and damp in the sugar 
house, and after a few minutes they put on their 


MIDSUMMER NIGHTMARE 


103 


sweaters. As soon as he was thoroughly warm Alex¬ 
ander, who was never agitated for very long, went 
to sleep. 

Philip was sleepy too, sitting there staring through 
the glass into the moonlight. Sometimes it seemed 
as if the tree stumps were dancing up and down, and 
when they did that he opened his eyes wide again. 
He must not go to sleep, for fear something should 
come across the clearing. And he did not think that 
he did, even for a moment. 

Nevertheless, it was Alexander who heard the 
Thing first. 

''What’s that?” said Alexander, suddenly sitting 
up in his bunk, not quite sure where he was. 

"What’s what?” answered Philip, opening his eyes. 

"That thumpy sound. It’s coming back.” 

Sure enough, in the direction of the clearing, 
something was coming through the woods, nearer 
and nearer to the sugar house—something that seemed 
in a great hurry and kept bumping the ground. It 
sounded exactly like the end of a witch’s broomstick 
that had dropped too close to the earth. Philip 
and Alexander listened, wide-eyed with fright. The 
thumps went by in front of the sugar house and off 
among the trees again. 

Alexander ran across to Philip’s bunk and the twins 
looked anxiously out, but the moon had disappeared 
again behind heavy clouds, and they could see noth¬ 
ing in the blackness, not even the shapes of the trees. 


104 


LET POLLY DO IT 


As they sat there, huddled together, they suddenly 
heard the Thing coming back, scuttling across the 
clearing. Philip and Alexander lay down flat in the 
bunk and pulled their sweaters over their faces. This 
time Whatever-it-was came clattering up to the 
house itself, with a bang and a rattle right under 
their very window. 

"Oh!” cried Philip. 

"Ow!” cried Alexander. 

At the sound of their voices, the Thing bumped 
hurriedly away through the clearing, and then all was 
silent again. Philip and Alexander, close together in 
the bunk, shivered and listened. Now and then they 
heard a distant thump, as if the Thing were coming 
back. But it did not, and after what seemed like 
hours there began to be a faint light in the sugar 
house. The twins could see the square outlines of 
the windows and the shapes of the table and chair. 
It was almost morning. Alexander had just sat up to 
look out of the window again, when from the back 
of the sugar house the Thing came swishing right 
out into the clearing before his eyes. 

"Look!” he cried, with a gasp of astonishment, 
"Look!” 

"Oh— Oh!” said Philip, who had sat up too. 

For there in the middle of the clearing, revealed 
by the dawn, was no witch at all, but only their 
own little black Inky Winky with his head stuck 
fast inside the salmon can! 


MIDSUMMER NIGEITMARE 


105 


The twins ran quickly out of the sugar house into 
the clearing, and while Alexander held Inky Winky’s 
little black legs, Philip gave one tug at the salmon 
can. The next minute Inky Winky, free at last, was 
scampering through the woods faster than any kit¬ 
ten had ever run before, the twins after him. 

"Sh!” said Alexander, suddenly standing still, and 
pointing into the woods. "Somebody’s coming. I 
hear them talking.” 

"Where?” said Philip, bumping into Alexander 
from behind, as he tried to stop too. 

The twins stood listening, and looking in among 
the trees. The woods were still dim and scary in the 
strange gray light. 

"Shall we go back to the sugar house?” said Philip. 

"No,” shouted Alexander all at once, running on 
into the woods. For he had recognized the voices 
and he knew that all was well! 




Chapter Eight 

POLLY PERPLEXED 


W hat I want to know,” said Randall, look¬ 
ing down severely at the twins, "is where 
you two were going. Speak up now!” 

Philip and Alexander, their hands clasped squarely 
behind them, stood side by side before Uncle Ranny 
in the early morning woods. They were gazing ap¬ 
parently straight ahead of them at nothing at all, 
but they were really peeking out of the corners of 
their eyes at Polly who stood beside Uncle Ranny. 
It mattered a great deal to the twins what Polly 
thought, but as usual she was paying the scantiest 
attention to them. Instead, she was looking up at 
Uncle Ranny, with a sort of half smile that Philip 
and Alexander could not make out at all. 

"We were going to Sanbornville,” said Philip re¬ 
luctantly, in a low voice, looking down at the toe 
of his stocking foot with which he was digging into 
the leafy mould. 

"Sanbornville!” echoed Randall. "What for?” 

10 6 


POLLY PERPLEXED 


107 


"To tell the president about Polly,” said Philip, 
his eyes still on the ground. 

"What!” she exclaimed turning sharply from Ran¬ 
dall to the twins. "About me?” For once they had 
fully captured Polly’s attention. 

"Yes,” said Philip, looking up at her and finding 
fluent speech now that the ice was broken. "We lost 
our way and it got dark so we couldn’t go last night, 
but we’ll tell him in the fall. You needn’t be afraid 
—he’s a friend of ours and he’ll like you too, won’t 
he, Alec?” 

Alexander nodded vigorously. Then with one ac¬ 
cord the twins flung themselves upon Polly, clasping 
her arms with their firm little hands and jumping up 
and down. 

"Say you’ll come to college,” begged Philip. "Oh, 
please say you’ll come for sure!” 

Polly threw back her head and laughed. Then she 
turned to Randall, and saw that for once she too had 
fully captured his attention, for he was looking at 
her with eyes unexpectedly searching. 

"When I told them the other day that I might not 
go to Sanbornville this fall,” explained Polly, still 
smiling, "and they wanted to know why, I said that 
the president might not like me—so they seem to 
have taken it into their own hands!” And she laughed 
again. 

Randall glanced for a moment at the twins with 
a reluctant grin. Then he looked back intently at 
Polly. 


108 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"You’re not coming to college?” he said. 

"Probably not,” replied Polly carelessly. 

"But why not?” demanded Randall. 

"Let’s not talk about it just now,” said Polly, turn¬ 
ing away from him. "We ought to go home at once 
with the boys.” 

"Of course,” said Randall, in his usual matter-of- 
fact voice. "Take hold of hands, you two, and walk 
ahead of us down the trail, and don’t run, or get out 
of the path until you see the car.” 

The twins hesitated, for they wanted to walk with 
Polly. They looked up at her appealingly, but as soon 
as they saw her face they took hold of hands and 
started off dejectedly down the trail under the sugar 
maples, Philip limping a little without his sneaker. 

Polly and Randall followed a short distance be¬ 
hind. For some minutes neither spoke. Randall was 
never much of a talker but their hours together in 
the shed laboratory had been filled with a sense of 
comradeship which had no need of speech. Now 
Polly felt a constraint in the silence. 

Suddenly he turned to her. 

"What do you mean about not coming to Sanborn- 
ville this fall?” he said, looking at her with something 
in his eyes that Polly had not seen there before. 

"It may seem best for me not to,” she said—and 
hesitated. "I’m thinking of taking an extra course 
or two at the Academy before I try college.” 



"Say you’ll come to college,” begged Philip 









POLLY PERPLEXED 


111 


"But you don’t need anything more at the Acad¬ 
emy,” protested Randall, his thick brows drawn to¬ 
gether in a slight frown. "You know more now than 
most entering Freshmen. Besides, I’ve got to have a 
student helper in the laboratory, and you’re having 
practice this summer, you know.” 

''You’ll find plenty of student helpers,” she said, 
looking straight ahead, where the first shafts of the 
sun were lighting up the trunks of the trees. There 
was suddenly a glow all around them and the woods 
were sweet with the damp freshness of very early 
morning. 

"But of course I want you ” said Randall simply, 
as if it were the most self-evident thing in the world. 

He, too, looked down the trail and so did not see in 
Polly’s face that which made it so unlike hers. But 
when, in a moment, he turned to her, it was the usual 
Polly with the mischievous crooked smile. 

"Look out that you remember that a year from 
next fall, when I turn up at Sanbornville, Mr. Labora¬ 
tory-Assistant Gage!” she said lightly. "Come on, 
let’s catch up with the twins. They’re almost out of 
sight.” And she ran quickly toward the bend in the 
trail where Philip and Alexander were just disappear¬ 
ing. 

Polly, slim and sure-footed, had always a certain 
grace of movement and Randall, watching her as she 
ran in gay abandon among the trees, her brown dress 
and green kerchief flickering in and out of the level 


112 


LET POLLY DO IT 


shafts of sunlight, thought that she seemed the very 
spirit of the woods. 

He overtook her and the twins where the trail 
joined the wood road, where Flossie could be seen 
waiting by the gate. In a few minutes they had all 
reached the car and the twins had been bundled into 
the back seat, in spite of their indignant declaration 
that they always sat beside Polly. They were too 
subdued by their night’s experiences, however, to 
make any real protest, and before Flossie had gone 
half a mile, they were sound asleep in a jumble of red 
sweaters and corduroys. 

To Polly at the wheel, with Randall beside her, it 
seemed that this fresh day and the rain-washed de¬ 
serted roads had been made just for their drive to¬ 
gether—but it was, alas, only two miles to West Hill. 
Once she glanced around at Randall, but he did not 
look at her and his face wore the familiar expression 
of having forgotten her presence. Nevertheless, Polly 
felt this time oddly certain that their thoughts ran 
together, and just as Flossie began to climb West Hill 
she knew that they did. 

"Polly,” said Randall, with an odd mixture of cas¬ 
ualness and earnestness in his voice. "You did not 
mean, did you, what you said about not coming to 
college this fall? It’s nonsense, you know, your mess¬ 
ing around at the Academy another year—unless, of 
course,” he added, "you have some other reason.” 

There was a moment of silence. 


POLLY PERPLEXED 


113 


"The truth is,” said Polly, "my aunts are both un¬ 
well, and they just can’t be left alone.” 

"Oh,” said Randall, with a return of the puzzled 
frown, "but can’t you—of course it is none of my 
business—but isn’t there somebody else who could 
stay with them?” 

"No,” she said bluntly. The Stebbins reserve, 
where personal problems were concerned, was strong 
in Polly, and although his unexpected interest 
thrilled her, she already wished that she had not 
said so much. "I suppose I could go if I wanted 
to enough,” she added evasively. 

"Don’t you want to?” said Randall. 

"Sometimes,” said Polly. 

Randall said nothing more, and Polly wished, with 
a sudden revulsion of feeling, that the drive would 
come to an end. 

In a moment it did, in front of the white cottage, 
where Mrs. Gage, pale and excited, came hurrying 
to meet them and was soon joyously reunited with 
the sleepy twins. Polly did not get out of the car. 

"You’ve been a trump. Thanks a lot,” said Randall, 
closing the door of Flossie. "See you to-morrow after¬ 
noon.” He waved with his usual careless gesture; 
then turned toward the cottage. 

Polly drove down the hill and along the still empty 
roads toward the Stebbins mansion, her mind in a 
tumult. Randall really wanted her to come to San- 
bornville—he had said so—Randall, who almost never 



114 


LET POLLY DO IT 


committed himself! He was counting on her help in 
the laboratory, on having their work together go on. 
And oh, she wanted it too—more than she had ever 
wanted anything. Nobody had any right to make her 
give it up, said Polly fiercely to herself, holding her 
wheel tight. The duty to the aunts was no more hers 
than Debby’s. Debby had had four years of freedom. 
It was her, Polly’s, turn now. 

If Debby only knew the conditions at home, she 
would surely have something to suggest, even if she 
could not come herself. Why, after all, should she 
not write to Debby and ask her advice? What right 
had Aunt Retta to dictate what she should or should 
not say to her own sister? Perhaps it was even her 
duty to tell Debby the real facts. And, anyway, 
there must be lots of older people who could take 
care of the old aunts better than a girl like herself. 
Why could not Aunt Martha, George’s mother, come 
east and spend the winter at the Stebbins mansion? 
She was a widow, and she could bring Althea with 
her if necessary. But a moment later Polly smiled 
faintly to herself, in spite of her perplexities, for 
she was too much of a Stebbins not to know that Aunt 
Retta would never tolerate any outsider in the house 
for the entire winter, least of all Aunt Martha who 
was always late to meals and who on her last visit 
had spilled cleaning fluid on the top of one of the 
Chippendale tables. 

It was not yet five o’clock as Polly brought Flossie 



POLLY PERPLEXED 


in 


to a stop on the gravel behind the Stebbins mansion. 
She had telephoned the evening before that she was 
spending the night with Mrs. Gage, so that Aunt 
Retta and Aunt Nell should have no anxiety about 
her, but she had thought that somebody would surely 
be awake to let her in. There was no sign, however, 
that anybody was yet astir in the house and there was 
no possible way of getting in, as everything was 
thoroughly locked up at bed-time under Aunt Ret- 
ta’s personal supervision, and the only latch-key of 
the Stebbins mansion reposed invariably in the top 
drawer of Aunt Retta’s bureau. Not wishing to wake 
Aunt Nell earlier than necessary, Polly stole around 
the outside of the house, examining the windows, to 
see if by chance one had been forgotten, but all were 
securely fastened, except the one in the shed, where 
Polly could always make an entrance. 

She did so now, squeezing in under the upper sash, 
to the evident astonishment of the dozen sleepy kit¬ 
tens, who opened round eyes at this unexpected in¬ 
trusion. Stretching themselves, they jumped from 
table, bench and chair, delighted at the prospect of an 
early breakfast. They did not know, as did Polly, 
that the door from the shed into the house was bolted 
every night from the other side, and that there would 
be no going into the kitchen until Aunt Nell came 
down. 

Polly, feeling flat and disheveled after her sleep¬ 
less night, sat down on the bench and picked up one 


116 LET POLLY DO IT 

of the kittens that were sharpening their claws 
against her knees—the remaining yellow one that 
had introduced herself and Randall. Zab was to 
come over this morning to make a crate for it and 
it was to be shipped this afternoon. As she scratched 
the silky ears and looked down into the golden eyes, 
Polly suddenly wished that she had not sold this par¬ 
ticular kitten. Would not that person in Boston be 
just as well satisfied with the gray one with the white 
nose? Polly put her face down against the yellow 
fur. 

Then, quickly, she set the kitten on the floor and 
got up from the bench. What did it matter which 
kitten it was! And what in the world was the mat¬ 
ter with her! Was she actually getting sentimental 
over cats—or was it just that she had had no sleep 
and no breakfast. She thought back to the ride with 
Randall through the dawn. Was it she , Polly Steb- 
bins, who had felt all those queer things just an hour 
ago? Well, she must just get over them! She and 
Randall were the best of friends, and there was go¬ 
ing to be nothing silly between them, that was sure. 
As for college—of course she wanted it—more than 
anything, but Randall was only a part of it. She 
would not give him another thought until she had 
had her breakfast and then things would assume 
their proper proportions again as they always did when 
you stopped being hungry. Meanwhile, Polly remem¬ 
bered that there was fresh milk on the back steps and 


POLLY PERPLEXED 


117 


that she and the kittens could have some of that 
while they waited. She walked across the shed toward 
the outer door but Polly and the kittens were not to 
have the milk, for before she reached the door she 
made two discoveries, which for the time being put 
breakfast out of her mind again. The first was a 
note, stuck with a pin on the shed wall. 

Dear Polly (it read), 

Sorry, but I can’t come over to-morrow to 
make the crate. Have another engagement and 
shall be away all day. Will come Thursday, sure. 
The stove is O.K. Fed the kits and put rest of 
fish in the ice chest. 

Yours, 

Zab 

Polly frowned at the note. Another engagement 
indeed! And for all day! What on earth was the 
matter with Zabbie? He knew well enough that the 
kitten had to be shipped today, and besides, they were 
out of slats for the crates and he had always fetched 
them from the lumber yard on the other side of the 
creek. Perhaps if Zabbie understood the chief reason 
for this cat business he would be a little more atten¬ 
tive to duty. Anyhow what kind of a date was he 
keeping? 

Throwing the note on the table, Polly swung 
around toward the window that faced the Eatons’ 
house but she could see no sign of life over there 


118 


LET POLLY DO IT 


either. As she turned from the window, she made 
her second discovery. The door at the opposite end 
of the shed that opened into the house was not bolted 
after all. From where she now stood, she could see 
that it was not even latched. For once the locking 
up had been neglected. But Polly did not stop to 
wonder why, for her sharp eyes had seen something 
else. Going quickly across the shed, she flopped 
around a large square of wood that was leaning 
against the wall. A faint color came into her cheeks 
as she looked at it. It was the sign that she and Zab 
had nailed to the oak tree. 

So Aunt Retta had done it after all—it must 
have been last evening! Polly pushed the sign away 
from her into a corner. Well, that settled it. There 
simply was no doing anything in this house and any¬ 
body with a bit of spirit would get away from it. 
There certainly was nothing that would keep her, 
Polly, there after September. 

Feeling more angry and determined than she had 
ever felt in her life, Polly slipped through the door 
into the hall, pushing back the disappointed kittens 
with the toe of her shoe. With lips set in a true 
Stebbins line, she went through the kitchen and the 
hall to the drawing-room. She would write to Debby 
at once, before Aunt Retta came downstairs, tell 
her the conditions at home and ask her what ar¬ 
rangements could be made at the Stebbins mansion 


POLLY PERPLEXED 


119 


when she, Polly, should go to college. She opened 
the drawer of the old secretary where the writing 
paper was kept, but it was empty. This was annoy¬ 
ing, because the supply of writing paper was up¬ 
stairs in Aunt Retta’s closet. Polly rummaged about 
for a moment or two in the secretary, then closed 
the drawers with a snap. Well, there was still a bit 
of old drawing paper in Debby’s studio. 

As she turned from the secretary, Polly’s eye was 
caught by the portrait of Great-grandmother Steb- 
bins over the mantelpiece. The sunlight, slanting in 
through the east window and falling on the Shera¬ 
ton mirror on the opposite wall, was reflected back 
upon the picture, making it the one vivid and shin¬ 
ing thing in the room. The beautiful serene face, 
the slender hands folded on the crimson lap, were 
all at once touched with animation. Great-grand¬ 
mother had ever seemed a living presence in that 
room, but never so pervasive as at this moment in the 
clear reflected light. Polly, arrested, stood looking 
up into the dark eyes that seemed to be searching 
hers. Great-grandmother too had loved the world 
and all its adventures. Coming as a bride from her 
Spanish home in the West Indies, she had sailed with 
Great-grandfather on his journeys over the world in 
the clipper ship—even on that last dreadful jour¬ 
ney when the ship had gone down with all on board. 
It was more than her name—Paulina de Cordova— 
that she had given to her great-granddaughter. Look- 



120 


LET POLLY DO IT 


ing into the gay and charming face, Polly felt sud¬ 
denly very near to Great-grandmother, who had not 
wished to live out even her short life in a drab Maine 
town. Nor would she, said Polly decisively to herself, 
as she turned from the portrait. Nevertheless, her 
lips were no longer set in quite so tight a line. As 
she went through the hall she heard quick footsteps 
above. 

"Is that you, Polly?’ , called Aunt Nell, leaning 
anxiously out over the stairs. "Have they found the 
boys?” 

"Yes,” replied Polly, "in the woods. They’re all 
right.” 

As she spoke there was the familiar tapping of 
crutches along the upper hall. 

"Well, I don’t know what that Gage family can 
be like,” announced the firm voice of Aunt Retta, 
"letting children slip through their fingers like that!” 
Then, coming closer to the stairs, "Polly,” she de¬ 
manded sternly, "how did you get in this morning? 
Did you take the latch key?” 

"Oh no, Aunt Retta,” said Polly, her mouth relax¬ 
ing for a moment entirely, her eyes suddenly bright 
with their customary mischief. "The shed door hap¬ 
pened to be unbolted, so I just walked in!” 



Chapter Nine 

MARKING TIME 

P olly did not write her letter to Debby before 
breakfast, and directly afterwards the day began 
to fill up with other things. While she was hanging 
out the dish towels on the back porch, she noticed 
Carol Eaton similarly engaged across the way. With 
a wave of her hand, Polly walked across the grass 
to the hedge that separated the two places. 

"Is Zab in the garage?” she asked. 

"No,” said Carol, "he’s gone.” 

"Gone?” echoed Polly in surprise, for it was not 
yet half past eight. "Where?” 

"On the picnic to Shadman’s Pond,” said Carol. 
"It’s such a long way that they got an early start.” 

"Who went?” enquired Polly, in as casual a voice 
as possible. 

"Oh, Ned Abbott and Alice Crane and the Sill 


121 



122 


LET POLLY DO IT 


boys—I’ve forgotten the others,” replied Carol, turn¬ 
ing toward the door. "Did you want Zab for any¬ 
thing?” 

"No thanks,” said Polly, a little abruptly, also 
turning away. 

So the "engagement” was the picnic, to which 
Polly herself had declined an invitation! What was 
Zab going off with Ned Abbott and Alice Crane 
for? That was not his crowd at all. This would 
bear looking into, said Polly to herself, as she walked 
briskly back into the Stebbins mansion. Well, there 
was no time for investigation now, with Zab’s work, 
as well as her own, to be done in the shed. 

Polly fed the kittens and brushed them as usual 
with a stiff brush so that they should be silky and 
fluffy for possible customers—although who would 
come, now that the sign on the tree was gone? There 
was a printed card in the window of the Souvenir 
Shoppe, it was true, and another in the drug store, 
but Polly doubted whether they brought in much 
trade. Perhaps Bert Leary would stick one up for 
her, somewhere about the station. So she printed 
one and went in Flossie to fetch the slats. But the 
station was locked and Bert nowhere to be seen, 
although Polly waited, swinging the legs of her 
slacks from the baggage truck for fifteen minutes. 
And when she reached the lumber yard the man 
there was having an altercation with somebody over 
the telephone about shingles, so that there was 


MARKING TIME 


123 


another tiresome wait, and the morning was half 
gone before Polly at last reached home with the 
slats. 

She went to work at once on the crate, but although 
she was not unskilful with hammer and nails, she 
found that it took her much longer than it took Zab, 
and by the time the yellow kitten was boxed, lunch 
was ready on the table, and the letter to Debby had to 
be put off again. 

Polly was anything but her usual cheerful self, as 
she sat stiffly at the luncheon table, saying as little as 
possible to Aunt Nell and nothing at all to Aunt 
Retta. Aunt Nell, always sensitive to the moods of 
others, looked questioningly at the dark young face 
opposite. Aunt Retta, herself unusually animated, 
appeared to notice nothing and was full of racy com¬ 
ment about a letter that she had just received from 
Aunt Martha Jones. Polly ordinarily loved to hear 
Aunt Retta on the subject of Aunt Martha, and at 
any other time would have been highly amused, but 
today the thought of the sign in the shed was too 
bitter and the sound of Aunt Retta’s firm critical 
voice was almost more than she could bear. She rose 
from the table as soon as she could, and going directly 
to the shed, took the crate with the yellow kitten out 
to Flossie. She hesitated a moment before getting 
in, then turned and walked over to the pantry win¬ 
dow where Aunt Nell was placing currant jelly glasses 
in the sun. 


124 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"Leave the dishes, Aunt Nelly,” she said. "I shall be 
back in a little while.” 

She did wish that Aunt Nelly would not look so 
tired. But this day of delays had more in store and 
Polly did not think of Aunt Nell and the dishes again 
for several hours. 

Arrived at the station, she was annoyed to find 
that Bert Leary had not yet returned from his dinner. 
In her haste to get away from the house and Aunt 
Retta, she had neglected to look at the clock. Stretch¬ 
ing out behind the wheel, she prepared to wait in 
what comfort she could, but it was hot there by the 
station platform, with the early afternoon sun beat¬ 
ing down on the roof of the car, and glancing at the 
crate beside her, she saw a small red tongue hanging 
out between the slats. She wished heartily that she 
had not had to ship the yellow kittens on such broil¬ 
ing days. 

Polly leaned her head back against one of the up¬ 
rights of the car and closed her eyes. It was funny, 
she thought drowsily, as she rubbed the yellow nose, 
how losing even a single night’s sleep took the pep out 
of one. She must not drop off now though for it was 
almost time for Bert. Polly, however, was more tired 
than she realized, and in five minutes she was slum¬ 
bering beside the yellow kitten, and dreaming elab¬ 
orately that she and Randall had joined a circus and 
were trying to tame a cageful of lions by tickling 
their noses. Randall seemed to be coming toward her 


MARKING TIME 


125 


with the fiercest lion of all on Aunt Retta’s silver tea 
tray, when Polly suddenly opened her eyes with a 
start and saw Randall himself standing by the car, 
while behind him the afternoon train was just puffing 
out of the station. 

'"Good heavens!” cried Polly, clutching for the 
crate beside her. "The kitten!” 

But the seat was empty. 

"You looked so awfully comfortable,” said Randall 
with a grin, "that it seemed a shame to wake you. I 
gave it to Bert.” 

"You did!” said Polly, still a trifle bewildered, and 
decidedly chagrined, for she was seldom caught nap¬ 
ping. "Why—thanks a lot—but how did you happen 
to turn up at exactly the psychological moment?” 

"I had to come down to send a telegram,” said 
Randall. "It’s a nuisance, but I’ve got to go back 
to Sanbornville to-morrow morning for a week or 
so.” 

"Oh,” said Polly rather blankly. What a beastly 
day it was, to be sure. 

It was as if Randall read her thoughts. 

"By the way,” he said, "could you come up today 
instead of to-morrow? The twins are in bed this 
afternoon—as a penalty—and later they and Mother 
are going to Thomaston to stay with Aunt Emma 
for a week, so we shall have a fine chance to work.” 

As he spoke, he looked in his detached way after 
the retreating train, and she noticed, half relieved, that 




126 LET POLLY DO IT 

there was no trace on his face of his early morning 
mood. 

"Yes, I think I could,” she said, trying to sound 
merely acquiescent. "Is your car still at the garage? 
Shall we run up in Flossie now?” 

"All right with me” said Randall, getting in beside 
her, and handing her the receipt for the kitten. 
"Pretty hot day for that little beggar in the crate,” 
he added. 

Did Randall too, perhaps, have a special feeling 
for the yellow kittens, thought Polly. She glanced 
at him as she started the engine but he was looking 
the other way, bowing to somebody across the street. 
She bit her lip. What in the world was the matter 
with her? 

The afternoon that followed was the jolliest that 
Polly could remember. Sitting on opposite sides of 
the table under the window in the shed laboratory, 
she and Randall dissected lizards. Zab had caught 
them the day before along the river road and had 
taken them up to West Hill at Polly’s behest. And 
now Randall showed her all sorts of interesting things 
that could be done with a scalpel. 

"You must have dissected before, haven’t you?” 
he said, watching her as, under his direction, she 
wielded the little knife. 

"Not exactly,” said Polly. "Sometimes I used to 
cut up the moles that Isaak Walton left on the door¬ 
step, until Aunt Retta decided that it was unladylike! 


MARKING TIME 


127 


There was a time, you know, when I intended to be 
a trained nurse.” 

"And you gave it up?” said Randall, with rather 
perfunctory interest. 

"Yes,” said Polly. "There’s a little too much mak¬ 
ing of beds and being a comfort connected with it. 
After Aunt Retta broke her hip, I became a disil¬ 
lusioned woman!” And she looked up from her 
scalpel long enough to grin across the table. 

"Pure science for you, then?” said Randall, with 
that quizzical look of which Polly was never quite 
sure. 

"Yes,” she answered, her eyes once more on the 
scalpel. She hoped that he would say something 
again about helping him next year, but when he spoke, 
it was in regard to the lizard. 

"You’ll do better,” he said, "if you turn the head 
the other way, and hold the scalpel a little more to 
the side, like this.” 

Polly, in turn, watched the strong, sure fingers, 
as they separated the tiny parts and laid them cleanly 
out on the table. My, but it must be great to be able to 
do it like that! Would she —next year? Oh, if she 
only had the chance! 

"I’ll get the alcohol and labels,” she said. Anything 
in the laboratory was fun—with Randall. 

They stopped their work long enough to see Mrs. 
Gage and the twins off for Thomaston, but after that 
there were no interruptions and they spoke little. 


128 


LET POLLY DO IT 


Randall seemed absorbed in what he was doing and 
looked up only occasionally to give Polly brief direc¬ 
tions across the table. As for Polly, she lost all track 
of time until, rinsing bottles in a basin by the open 
window, she suddenly remembered Aunt Nelly and 
the dishes, and heard the clock on the Congregational 
church striking the hour distantly across the fields. 

"What time is it?” she said, whirling around from 
the window. 

"Six,” said Randall without looking up. 

"Great Scott!” exclaimed Polly, setting down the 
bottles with a clatter. "Supper!” She turned quickly 
toward the door, then stopped, remembering that 
Randall’s family were not at home. "What about 
your supper?” she added. 

"Oh, I’ll just get a bite when Fm through here,” 
he replied indifferently, going on with his work. 

"No,” said Polly, with one of her sudden inspira¬ 
tions. "You can come home with me.” 

"I don’t think I’d better do that,” said Randall 
doubtfully, looking up at last. "What about your 
aunts?” 

"Oh, they’ll enjoy it,” said Polly blithely. "It’s 
chowder tonight, so there’s sure to be enough to go 
around. Hurry up and take off your smock and 
wash your hands. The only thing Aunt Retta can’t 
stand is having any one late. Fll be turning the car 
around.” 

She did not add that nobody in the world but her- 


MARKING TIME 


129 


self ever dreamed of bringing a last-minute guest 
to the table of the Stebbins mansion. Five minutes 
later, in spite of Randall’s hesitations, they were 
rattling down West Hill at Flossie’s topmost speed. 

Miss Henrietta was standing at the screen door, 
looking out a little grimly, as Polly came up the walk 
with her unexpected guest. 

"I’ve brought Randall to supper, Aunt Retta,” she 
said gaily, opening the screen door. "I knew you 
would not want me to leave him to shift for him¬ 
self. His family are all away, you know.” 

"Oh, indeed,” said Miss Henrietta, obviously taken 
aback. "Good evening,” she added stiffly, turning to 
Randall. "Will you come in. Supper is already on 
the table.” 

Aunt Nell was behind her in the hall, ready as 
usual with a quiet friendly greeting, and Aunt Retta, 
whatever her inward objections may have been, led 
the way without further words into the dining-room. 
The eyes under the handsome level brows were more 
than usually sharp and critical, but Polly noticed with 
inward glee that there was really nothing for Aunt 
Retta to criticize, for Randall’s manners were above 
reproach. He pulled out Aunt Retta’s chair and saw 
that she was comfortably settled with her crutches 
placed safely against the dresser. Then he turned to 
help Aunt Nell. But, once they were all seated, Polly 
had to admit that it was not an easy occasion. Aunt 
Retta made no effort to be either agreeable or enter- 


130 


LET POLLY DO IT 


taining, saying only the most necessary and perfunc¬ 
tory things, while Randall, though he listened with 
courteous attention, spoke hardly at all, thus leaving 
the brunt of the conversation to Polly and Aunt 
Nell. Once, when he glanced across the table, Polly 
saw in his eyes that look of whimsical understanding 
that she knew so well, but he gave the outward im¬ 
pression of being, as usual, curiously unaware of his 
surroundings. This did not at all please Aunt Retta, 
who liked nobody to seem unaware of the Stebbins 
mansion. Altogether, Polly did not feel that the 
supper was a success. 

"That ship-model under glass,” condescended Miss 
Henrietta with dignity, when Randall had helped 
her to rise from her chair, at the end of the meal, "was 
made by my father himself—an exact representa¬ 
tion of his own clipper.” 

"Oh?” said Randall, giving the ship a polite, but 
casual, inspection, before turning to the darkest 
corner of the room, to examine with interest a stuffed 
otter. The otter, a relic of old Cousin Jonathan, was 
considered by Aunt Retta the least worthy object in 
the house and was only tolerated because it had been 
stuffed by a Stebbins, and had occupied the same 
spot for over sixty years. "That’s a fine piece of 
taxidermy,” observed Randall, passing by all the 
Chippendales and Hepplewhites, and even Great¬ 
grandmother’s portrait, to assist Miss Henrietta into 
her chair at the other end of the drawing-room. Polly, 


MARKING TIME 


131 


coming in with the tiny china cups on a tray, grinned 
a little ruefully. 

"Randall and I won’t stay for coffee, if you don’t 
mind, Aunt Retta,” she said, placing the tray on the 
table beside Miss Henrietta. "It’s too nice outside.” 

Randall hesitated a moment by Aunt Retta’s chair, 
then bowed politely to her and to Aunt Nell, and 
followed Polly across the room. As they came down 
the steps into the clear beauty of the midsummer 
evening, both Polly and Randall drew an audible 
breath of relief. Then they looked at each other and 
laughed. 

"Let’s pitch quoits,” said Polly, picking some rings 
up from under the portico, and walking across the 
lawn toward a low stake. Polly must ever be doing 
something. 

The air was sweet with the new-mown hay in the 
Judge’s fields across the road, and the clear gold in 
the west seemed to turn the grass under the Stebbins 
elms to an almost unearthly green. Randall, watching 
Polly as she tossed the quoits with slim and easy grace, 
felt again the illusion of the early morning—except 
that now she seemed to him the spirit of the fields. 

They played until the daylight was almost gone, 
and Polly thrilled to find how evenly matched they 
were, though Randall beat her by a point. It was 
not until he had said that he must go and had been 
into the house to say goodnight to the aunts, that the 
exhilaration went out of the day. 



132 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"You needn’t bother to run me home,” he said, 
as he came back down the walk to where Polly stood 
waiting. "I’ll pick up my car at the garage.” Then, 
as he put his hand on the gate, "Oh, by the way,” 
he said, "I had a letter today from a last year’s student, 
applying for that place in the laboratory. You know 
what I said this morning. Well, that holds good. 
But in case you aren’t coming to college, I don’t 
want to lose this chance, because she’s rather a cracker- 
jack. So will you think it over, and let me know as 
soon as I get back next week? I ought to settle it 
then.” Polly could see only the outline of his face 
in the dusk, but his voice sounded very cool and 
detached. 

"If you’re in a hurry,” she replied, trying to sound 
every bit as cool, "perhaps you’d better not wait for 
me.” 

"Oh yes I will,” said Randall, in the same voice. 
"Thanks for the supper and for all your help. See 
you next week.” And opening the gate, he waved 
his hand, and disappeared down the hill under the 
shadows of the elms. 

Well, if he preferred that other girl, said Polly 
to herself, her head held high as she went back up 
the walk, he should just have her! As she came into 
the house, she saw that Aunt Retta was on the stairs, 
going slowly up on her crutches, attended by Aunt 
Nell. At the sound of the screen door closing, Miss 
Henrietta stopped and half turned. 

"I hope that another time, Polly,” she said, "you 


MARKING TIME 


133 


will let us know when you wish to bring people to 
supper. As I have told you before, I do not like un¬ 
expected guests for meals, especially slight acquaint¬ 
ances.” 

"I know Randall very well,” retorted Polly quickly, 
"and I thought that you would enjoy knowing him 
better too.” 

Miss Henrietta raised her eye-brows. 

"The young man does well enough,” she said, with 
an involuntary glance in the direction of the dining¬ 
room door, which concealed Cousin Jonathan’s otter, 
"but he has a great deal to learn.” 

"I don’t know what you mean, Aunt Retta,” said 
Polly, with unexpected vehemence. "Randall has 
learned more already than most people learn in a life¬ 
time.” 

"Well!” said Miss Henrietta, looking down at Polly 
in evident surprise. "We will say no more about it. 
Will you please lock the front door now. Then Aunt 
Nell will not have to come down again.” 

Miss Henrietta, still poised upon the stairs, watched 
while Polly pushed the bolt. Then, with a somewhat 
stiff goodnight , she turned and continued her slow 
progress up the long flight. 

Polly, her back against the door, her thin face set 
in its sharpest lines, watched her aunts until they 
disappeared around the curve at the top of the stairs. 
Then she walked straight into the drawing-room. 
The letter to Debby should be written without an¬ 
other moment’s delay. 



Chapter Ten 

SOMEBODY MAKES A BREAK 

S itting by the drop-light at the secretary, in the 
otherwise dim old drawing-room, Polly wrote 
her letter with characteristic directness. 

Dear Debby (she began), 

There is something I should have told you 
ever so long ago, except that Aunt Retta did 
not wish it mentioned. But now that you are 
not coming home for another whole year, I 
think you ought to know that Aunt Retta fell 
and broke her hip last winter and has been on 
crutches ever since. It set pretty well and she 
insists that she is improving, but Aunt Nell 
thinks that she will always be lame, and so do I. 
The reason I am writing this just now is that 

134 









SOMEBODY MAKES A BREAK 


135 


I am awfully worried about what we ought to 
do—I mean as to what arrangement can be made 
when I go to college in September. They simply 
ought not to be left alone in this house, for 
Aunt Nell is not very well either (nothing 
serious, only she gets tired easily), and she mustn’t 
go up and down stairs all the time. You know 
Aunt Retta—how she will not have outsiders 
living in the house. She made a dreadful fuss 
about the nurse last winter, and she won’t even 
have Jennie sleep here once in a while. But there 
just must be somebody with them when I go 
away. Of course it can’t be Aunt Martha. The 
air of the Stebbins mansion would be a perpetual 
electric blue! You should have heard them last 
summer—it was rich! But can you think of any 
one else? Of course I know you feel that you 
cannot come, but do you suppose if you wrote 
to Aunt Retta that you and Eric think they 
should not stay alone, perhaps it might do some 
good? I could be here week-ends, but I don’t 
see how I can give up college entirely. It means 
too much in every way. 

Write as soon as you can what you think we 
can do. 

Always with love, 

Polly 

She stamped the envelope, and rose quickly from 
her chair. The letter should go into the mail-box 
tonight, before she had time to change her mind. 
But as she turned toward the door she paused, for 
there was still the sound of crutches moving about 


136 


LET POLLY DO IT 


in the room overhead. It would probably be better 
to wait until Aunt Retta was quite settled for the 
night. Nobody was supposed to unlock the front 
door after it had once been safely bolted under Miss 
Henrietta’s supervision. 

As she stood by the secretary, her letter in her 
hand, waiting for the house to be quiet, Polly heard 
a motor in the Eatons’ driveway, the slamming of a 
car door and the sound of jolly voices saying good¬ 
night. It must be Zab coming home from the picnic. 
Goodness, but it had lasted long enough! And whose 
large car was that? Switching off the drop-light, 
so that she herself should not be seen, Polly looked 
across at the Eatons’. She could not distinguish the 
voices through the closed window, but she could dis¬ 
tinctly see the slouching figure of Zab, standing on 
the steps in the moonlight and waving to the big 
sedan as it backed out of the driveway. He did not 
move until the car had disappeared under the elms 
of the street, then turned and bent to fit his latch¬ 
key in the door. Polly half smiled to herself. Fancy 
Zabbie looking after somebody sentimentally in the 
moonlight! Who could it be? Then her face grew 
suddenly sober, as she thought of another occasion 
when she had caught herself looking after Randall— 
Randall—who was considering that other girl for 
the laboratory. Well, who cared? She turned quickly 
from the window and listened. There was no longer 
the sound of crutches tapping on the ceiling. The 


SOMEBODY MAKES A BREAK 


137 


house seemed deathly still as she tip-toed into the 
dark hall and drew the heavy bolt of the front door. 

The letter safely in the box by the gate, Polly went 
wearily up the long stairs to her room. Did the world 
always look so distorted, she wondered, when for 
twenty-four hours one had been almost without 
sleep. Sleep! All she wanted was to tumble into bed 
and forget everything—college and the kittens and 
Aunt Retta and Randall—yes, most of all, Randall. 
What an idiot she had been to let herself care about 
the laboratory work. It was clear from the way he 
had spoken tonight that the other girl would suit 
him every bit as well. In spite of what he had said 
this morning in the woods {was it only this morning, 
or was it a month ago?) in spite of all that, it ap¬ 
parently did not much matter to him who his assist¬ 
ant was. Well, she would never think again, if she 
could help it, of this morning in the woods. She 
hated that sort of thing —hated it—and it was not 
going to come in and spoil her life, ever . Polly 
switched off the light with a snap and five minutes 
later she had forgotten everything in sleep. 

It was a deep dreamless sleep of complete exhaus¬ 
tion, so that when, several hours later, she suddenly 
found herself sitting up in bed staring into the semi¬ 
darkness of the big room, she hardly knew where she 
was. In front of her the long slender posts of her 
bed reared toward the ceiling, and beyond, in the 
pale moonlight on the floor, she could see the familiar 


138 


LET POLLY DO IT 


pattern of the braided rug. Polly rubbed her eyes. 
What had made her wake up now? She always slept 
until morning, but from the direction of the moon¬ 
light coming in through the window, she felt sure 
that it must be several hours before daylight. Had 
somebody called? It almost seemed that just before 
she opened her eyes she had heard something. She 
listened intently, but the house was very still. No, 
what was that faint scrapy sound from somewhere 
outside? Was somebody trying to steal Flossie from 
the driveway? 

In an instant Polly, wide awake, had sprung out of 
bed and run quickly across the room. Flossie, how¬ 
ever, could be seen standing unmolested in the moon¬ 
light. Then it came over Polly that she might have 
neglected to lock the front door again, when she 
came in from putting the letter in the box, and that 
somebody was perhaps trying to break into the house. 
No, she was almost sure that she had slipped the bolt. 
Standing at the window, partly hidden by the cur¬ 
tain, she held her breath and listened again. The 
stillness was almost uncanny—not a squeak on the 
stairs within, or a rustle in the garden without. Then 
suddenly Polly heard it once more, that faint scrap¬ 
ing of something close to the house, apparently near 
one of the downstairs windows below her room. She 
could not lean out to investigate because of the screen 
and she dared not speak for fear of arousing the aunts 


SOMEBODY MAKES A BREAK 


139 


who were both light sleepers. The sound continued 
for a few minutes, then stopped, only to begin again 
more persistently. By this time Polly had fully con¬ 
vinced herself that somebody was trying to break into 
the house. Ever since she was ten Polly had been 
secretly hoping for the excitement of a burglar at 
the Stebbins mansion, and she had long ago devised 
a program for the occasion. 

Slipping into her dressing gown and taking her 
flashlight from the table, Polly stole out into the hall. 
With the utmost caution she crept down the stairs, 
stepping over all the familiar creaks and pausing at 
the bottom only long enough to lift carefully down 
from its rack beside the hall clock one of the brace 
of old pistols that had hung there since before Great¬ 
grandfather Stebbins’ time. They had been entirely 
innocent of bullets for fully seventy years, but Polly, 
feeling the cold steel in her hand as she went on down 
the hall, felt armed to the teeth. 

She was sure that the scrapy sound had come from 
the pantry window, but here in the lower hall she 
could no longer hear anything. Pausing again out¬ 
side the closed kitchen door, she listened intently; 
then turned the knob slowly and opened the door a 
few inches. Yes, there it was again in the pantry, 
as she had thought—only now it was no longer a 
scrape but the sound of a window being pushed 
stealthily open. Flinging the door wide, Polly aimed 


140 


LET POLLY DO IT 


her pistol and her flashlight in the direction of the 
pantry. 

"Hands up !’ 5 she cried, in as deep a voice as she 
could muster. 

The flash fell only on the partly closed pantry door, 
but at the sound of Polly’s voice there was a crash 
and a muffled cry of despair. Whatever was in there 
had apparently fallen over Aunt Nell’s currant jelly 
glasses. Polly switched on the electric light and still 
pointing the pistol at the pantry, marched straight 
across the kitchen and pulled the door wide. 

"Great Scott!” cried the voice, no longer muffled. 
"Put down that gun, Polly!” 

It was George! And he was just half way through 
the pantry window. 

"What are you doing here?” demanded Polly 
sternly, regarding the wreck in the pantry. 

George, his white flannels liberally smeared with 
the currant jelly, wriggled the rest of the way through 
the window. 

"I got in late from Rockland,” he explained hastily. 
"I didn’t want to disturb you people, so I thought I’d 
try that jimmy that used to open this window. It’s 
damp on the boat at night, you know,” he added, as 
Polly continued to look at him accusingly. 

"Well, is that any reason for scaring a houseful of 
women to death,” she retorted, blocking the door¬ 
way, and concealing as best she could her thorough 
enjoyment of the whole adventure. "Besides, break- 


SOMEBODY MAKES A BREAK 


141 


ing and entering is a pretty serious offense, young 
man.” 

"Oh, come on, Polly,” said George, who by this 
time had scrambled into an upright position. "Let 
me into the kitchen.” 

Suddenly Polly grinned. George did look awfully 
rumpled and funny, with a blob of currant jelly on 
the end of his nose. Besides, it occurred to her that 
not twenty-four hours ago she herself had been trying 
unsuccessfully to break into the house and Polly 
could always laugh at her own expense. 

"You’re a scamp,” she said, dropping her arms, 
which had barred his way into the kitchen, "but if 
you’ll be as quiet as the grave, I’ll let you in.” 

"Gee whiz, Polly,” began George, as he followed 
her into the room, "where in time did you get that 
murderous gu-” 

"Sh-sh!” said Polly, standing suddenly still in the 
middle of the kitchen, her finger on her lips, her eyes 
on the ceiling. 

There was the distinct sound of footsteps on the 
floor above. 

"Now you’re in for it!” said Polly. "Stay where 
you are, while I go upstairs. If it’s only Aunt Nell, 
it will be all right.” 

But as she went toward the door, there was the 
ominous sound of crutches, tapping with unwonted 
speed along the upper hall, then a heavy thud and a 
cry. 



142 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"Good heavens! Aunt Retta’s fallen! You have 
done it now, you crazy thing,” cried Polly, rushing 
for the stairs, with George close behind. 

Arrived, breathless, at the top, they saw Aunt Nell 
bending over Aunt Retta, who was struggling to get 
to her knees. Her face was very white, and her lips 
were set tight against the pain which she would not 
express. Polly flew to pick up the crutches which 
had slid in opposite directions, while George did what 
he could to help Aunt Retta to her feet. 

"I don’t believe I can stand,” she said, in a shaky 
voice, so unlike Aunt Retta’s that it sent a pang 
through Polly. The sight of this figure, usually so 
proud and erect, prostrate and helpless, made the 
upper hall seem suddenly a strange place to them all. 

Between them they managed somehow to get Aunt 
Retta back to her bed where she lay exhausted against 
the pillows, her eyes closed. 

"I think, Polly, that you would better telephone 
for Dr. Hill,” said Aunt Nell, in a low voice. 

But it was not low enough. The eyes in the bed 
opened wide for a moment as sharp and bright as 
ever. 

"I will not have the doctor here in the middle of 
the night,” said Aunt Retta, in her own positive way. 
"I shall be—quite myself in the morning. Get me 
a hot water bag, please, Polly, and a cup of coffee. 
Do you understand—I will not have Dr. Hill tele¬ 
phoned to now.” Then, with her hand against her 


SOMEBODY MAKES A BREAK 


143 


hip and an involuntary moan, Aunt Retta closed her 
eyes again. 

Polly stole out of the room, leaving Aunt Nell 
sitting by the bedside. In the hall outside was George, 
moving awkwardly and restlessly about, his handsome 
face full of trouble. 

"How is she, Polly?” he asked anxiously. 

"We don’t know,” replied Polly, rather coolly, 
walking past him toward the stairs. "She won’t have 
the doctor until morning.” 

George followed Polly to the kitchen, where she 
went swiftly about, putting on the hot water and 
making the coffee, but paying no further attention 
to him. 

"Can I do anything to help?” he ventured after a 
few minutes. 

"Yes,” said Polly. "Somebody will have to clean 
up that mess in the pantry and I suppose it might as 
well be you.” 

George walked obediently across the kitchen and 
fetched the dust-pan and brush, with which he went 
silently to work. He swept up the broken glass, and 
mopped the splatterings of currant jelly as best he 
could. Then he came back to the table, where Polly 
was pouring out the coffee. 

"I say, Polly,” he began, "I’m awfully sorry. I 
didn’t think of anything like this. I don’t know 
just what to say, but-” 

"Don’t say anything,” replied Polly shortly. "The 



144 


LET POLLY DO IT 


trouble with you is, you always think too late. Even 
if she hadn’t fallen and hurt herself, you know well 
enough how Aunt Retta would feel about having a 
window of the Stebbins mansion opened with a 
jimmy. Sometimes I think you haven’t any more 
sense than you had when you were fifteen. Why, 
even Zabbie would know enough not to play a silly 
trick like that. The bed’s made up in the guest room. 
If that’s what you came for, you’d better go up and 
get into it.” And sticking the hot-water bag under 
her arm, and lifting the cup of coffee with a steady 
hand, Polly marched out of the kitchen and up the 
stairs. 

A few minutes later Aunt Retta, raised on an extra 
pillow, and feebly sipping her coffee, suddenly put 
down her spoon. 

"What is George doing here?” she demanded, evi¬ 
dently just beginning to be fully aware of the scene 
in the hall. "How did he get in?” 

"I happened to hear him,” said Polly, "and went 
down. He arrived late in his boat.” 

"Then that's what I heard,” said Aunt Retta. "Are 
you sure you locked the door again?” 

Polly, who was always truthful, hesitated. Then, 
remembering that she had indeed been out earlier 
in the night with the letter, 

"Yes,” she said. 

"Well,” said Aunt Retta, "I don’t like midnight 
arrivals. Tell George I want to see him.” 


SOMEBODY MAKES A BREAK 


145 


"I think he has gone to bed,” replied Polly, relent¬ 
ing for a moment towards Georgy-Porgy, "I’ll tell 
him in the morning.” 

Aunt Retta, spent by this exertion, said no more, 
merely holding out the cup for some one to take, and 
wearily closing her eyes again. They made her as 
comfortable as possible for the night. Then Aunt 
Nell sent Polly to bed. 

"There is nothing you can do until we get the 
doctor in the morning,” whispered Aunt Nell. "I 
will call you if I need you.” 

Polly tip-toed out of the room, noticing as she went 
down the hall that the door of the guest-room was 
open only a crack. George must have followed her 
directions and gone to bed. 

But once in her own four-poster, Polly, tired as 
she was, found that she could not sleep. She turned 
from side to side, haunted by that scene in the hall— 
Aunt Retta crumpled and helpless on the floor, her 
pitiful crutches strewn about. What would they 
have done if they had been alone in the house, those 
two? No, of course she could not leave them. It was 
her business, and nobody else’s. What, after all, did 
it matter to anybody whether she went to college 
this year or next—least of all, apparently, to Randall. 
And what would Debby say when she got that letter— 
that selfish letter? Whatever she might say, she would 
be sure to think that she had a sister who could not 
play the game. Debby herself, thought Polly, had 


146 


LET POLLY DO IT 


always played the game. As Aunt Retta had said 
more than once, Debby was a true Stebbins. Polly 
had always smiled when Aunt Retta had said that, 
but after all, it was something to be a true Stebbins. 
Polly, tossing in her bed, told herself bitterly that she 
was not and that Debby when she received that letter, 
would know it too. 

Suddenly she sat up in bed. Why, that letter had 
not gone yet! It was still safely there in the mail box, 
where she could get it again and destroy it. Polly 
slipped out of bed and groped around for her dress¬ 
ing gown. Then she paused. No, she could not go 
out there tonight, with the aunts awake in the front 
room, but Henry Gill almost never came around be¬ 
fore seven in the morning and she should be up long 
before that. Having opened her door and listened to 
make sure that all was quiet in Aunt Retta’s room, 
Polly crept back to bed. With a sigh of relief she 
closed her eyes. The first thing in the morning, she 
repeated drowsily to herself, she would retrieve the 
letter. Then she went peacefully to sleep—and had 
no dreams at all of what was really in the mail box. 


Chapter Eleven 

ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER 

W hen Polly opened her eyes, the sun was stream¬ 
ing brightly in through her east window. Was 
it a knock on the door that had waked her? Gracious, 
she must have overslept! With a vague sense of panic 
that there was something for which she had been 
going to get up early, she sat up in bed and blinked 
at the clock. Seven! The letter in the mail box! 
She jumped out of bed just as the knock on the 
door was repeated. 

"Polly,” said the voice of Aunt Nell, "will you 
please go down as soon as you are dressed and tele¬ 
phone for Dr. Hill? Aunt Retta is still in a good deal 
of pain and I think she should see him at once.” 

As quickly as possible Polly slipped into her clothes 
and ran downstairs, noticing in surprise, through the 
crack of the guest-room door as she went by, that 
the bed had not been slept in. What had become of 
Georgie-Porgie? The telephone was in the back hall, 
that Polly could not watch the mail-box while 

147 


SO 


148 


LET POLLY DO IT 


she called up, but through the open door of the din¬ 
ing-room she could see a strip of road along which 
Henry Gill would come. With her eyes glued to this 
spot, she stood, the receiver at her ear, waiting for 
her connection. It seemed to her that the local op¬ 
erator had never been so stupid and so slow. "What’s 
the matter with you this morning, Sadie?” said Polly, 
impatiently jiggling the hook up and down. "Did 
Bill take you to the movies last night?” Once she 
thought that she saw Henry Gill’s Ford coming along 
the road, and all but dropped the telephone. But 
it was only a belated milk truck. At last she heard 
Dr. Hill’s placid kind old voice at the other end of 
the wire. Miss Henrietta had fallen? Dear, dear. He 
would be up at once. With a hasty "Thanks a lot” 
Polly slammed down the receiver and rushed for the 
front door and the mail box. 

As she pulled down the flap and saw the envelope 
inside, a wave of relief swept through her. But as 
soon as she touched it, she realized that it was not her 
letter to Debby. The unsealed envelope was an old 
one directed to George, with Polly’s name scribbled 
over it in pencil, and it contained, as she saw at once 
by a glance at the scrawl inside, a note from that 
culprit himself. Henry Gill must have come early 
after all. The letter to Debby was gone beyond re¬ 
call. 

Appalled, Polly stood for a moment very still by 
the mail box, George’s note forgotten. Oh, why had 


ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER 


14 9 


she not come out last night? She might have known 
that she would over-sleep after all that excitement. 
Now it was too late. Debby would know just what 
a quitter she could be! Her face was dark with 
chagrin as she walked slowly back to the house. It 
was not until she reached the steps that she remem¬ 
bered the envelope in her hand, and took out George’s 
note. As her eye ran down the page, her brows drew 
together in a frown, and the chagrin gave way to a 
look of acute annoyance. The note was scribbled on 
a sheet of crumpled paper (evidently from George’s 
pocket, as there was a smear of currant jelly on one 
corner), and this is what she read: 

Dear Polly, 

I think I’ll go back and sleep on the boat. 
I’m awfully cut up about what happened, and 
hope you’ll forgive me. You know how I feel 
about you, Polly, and that I’d get down on my 
knees if it would do any good. Some day I’m 
going to get down on my knees anyway, and if 
you don’t smile at me and take me, I’ll run away 
with you. You’re sweet —and that’s that. 

Yours forever, 

George 

P.S. I hope Aunt Retta will be O.K. 

Polly, her eyes unnaturally bright, crumpled the 
note in her hand. Idiot! Sweet , was she? His for¬ 
ever! Run away with her, indeed! Well, Mr. George 
would just better try it once. And if he knew what 


150 


LET POLLY DO IT 


was good for him, he would certainly stay away 
from the Stebbins mansion for a while. Polly closed 
the screen door with a snap and walked briskly toward 
the back of the house to put the offending note in the 
stove. But before she reached the kitchen she had 
reconsidered, and with a flicker of returning mischief 
in her face, she put it into her pocket instead. She 
would save it, and some time perhaps Georgie might 
have to eat his words. Then, her face once more 
sober, Polly set out Aunt Retta’s tray and began to 
get the breakfast. 

Before it was on the table Dr. Hill arrived, and 
with a nod and a pat for Polly went directly upstairs 
to Aunt Retta’s room. Polly, on the top step in the 
hall outside, awaiting the verdict and nursing the 
dull ache within her, was very miserable. Of course 
she could write to Debby again and take back what 
she had said. She could assert that she did not after 
all mind much about giving up college—but it 
would not be true, said Polly wretchedly to herself, 
her head in her hands. She did mind, terribly, and 
she despised people who said things and then took 
them back the next day. Besides, if Debby heard 
that Aunt Retta was bed-ridden again, she would 
think that it had taken something as bad as that to 
make Polly see what she ought to do. Would Aunt 
Retta have to be put to bed again for months and 
months? she thought, with a fresh pang of misery. 

She got up with an impatient gesture, and stood 


‘CZjLt: 



Polly, on the top step , was very miserable. 







































































' 



















ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER 153 

listening. Aunt Retta certainly sounded more like 
herself this morning. Polly could hear the deep tones 
of Dr. Hill and an occasional few quiet words from 
Aunt Nell, but it was the strong positive voice of 
Aunt Retta that predominated behind the closed 
door. Polly could not distinguish what they were say¬ 
ing, and remembering, with a wry smile, the many 
times through the years when Aunt Retta had told 
her that she must not be an eavesdropper, she turned 
again towards the stairs. As she did so, the door of 
Aunt Retta’s room opened and Dr. Hill came out 
with Aunt Nell behind him. Polly followed them 
downstairs and into the drawing-room where Dr. 
Hill repeated his verdict. Miss Henrietta had not 
broken anything, or seriously injured the hip, but 
she was badly bruised and shaken up and would 
probably have to be kept in bed, or at any rate on 
her couch, for two or three weeks. 

Aunt Retta in her room on any terms meant stir¬ 
ring days for the rest of the household as Polly 
very well knew. For nothing was permitted to break 
the routine of the Stebbins mansion, and she and 
Aunt Nell would have felt that Aunt Retta was 
sick indeed, if she had not continued to direct things 
from upstairs. 

"It is Friday,” said Miss Henrietta, when, the doc¬ 
tor gone, she had had her coffee and toast, and had 
been settled for the morning with pillows and hot 
compresses, "and if you will bring up the books, 


154 


LET POLLY DO IT 


Polly, I will let you help me with the accounts.” 

"Don’t you think you would better put it off a 
few days, until you feel stronger?” suggested Polly, 
looking at the white drawn face against the pillow. 

"It is not the Stebbins way to put off things that 
should be done,” said Miss Henrietta firmly. 

Polly turned from the bed. It seemed to her that 
Aunt Retta’s sharp eyes were looking directly through 
her, and noting how little a true Stebbins she was. 

After the accounts were put in order, the silver 
cake basket and tea service were brought up to Aunt 
Retta’s room and polished under her supervision, for 
these were never left to Jennie in the kitchen. Then 
the linen on the shelves had to be counted, as it al¬ 
ways was on Fridays after the laundry came back, 
and the set of Chinese lacquer on Aunt Retta’s 
mantel-piece had to be dusted with a horse-hair 
brush. It seemed to Polly that Aunt Retta had never 
been so ingenious in thinking up things that must 
be done and it was eleven o’clock before Polly had 
time to so much as look into the shed. Then she 
found that Zab, whose week it was to attend to the 
kittens in the morning, had not been over at all, as 
was evident by the way in which they all came 
mewing to greet her, their little red mouths wide 
with impatient hunger. Zab was certainly "letting 
Polly do it” with a vengeance! As she went back 
and forth in the shed, getting the kittens their be¬ 
lated breakfast, and glancing occasionally through 


ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER 


155 


the window, her eye fell on the words painted so 
flamboyantly on the back of Flossie, and she was filled 
all at once with a great distaste for this childish dis¬ 
play. What was the use of driving about town, ask¬ 
ing other people to let you attend to their business, 
when you hadn’t the common decency to attend to 
your own? 

With one of her sudden impulses, Polly walked 
across the shed to the shelf, and took down the can 
of paint with which she had renovated Flossie at 
the beginning of the summer. Then walking out to 
the car, she rapidly obliterated the white words, with 
sweeping strokes of the black paint. At least, said 
Polly to herself, as she put on the finishing touches, 
she would not now feel like a hypocrite. She was 
still dabbing at Flossie with the brush, when Zab 
came around the corner of the shed. At the sight 
of Polly he stopped short, obviously embarrassed. 

"Well,” said Polly, with only a glance in his direc¬ 
tion. "What have you got to say for yourself now?” 

"I’m awfully sorry,” said Zab, hesitating, "but I 
had an appointment for right after breakfast.” 

"Another picnic?” said Polly, with slightly raised 
eyebrows. "By the way, who brought you home last 
night?” 

Zab, evidently taken aback by this turn in the 
conversation, looked still more ill at ease. 

"I came home in the Daggetts’ car,” he said, shuf¬ 
fling a little on his big feet. 


156 


LET POLLY DO IT 


Polly looked up now in genuine astonishment. 

"The Daggetts’?” she repeated. "I didn’t know 
that Herman Daggett could get away from the dairy 
for all day.” 

"He didn’t,” said Zab. "He—he just came after 
us.” 

"After whom?” continued Polly relentlessly. 

"Oh, Alice Crane and the Sills and me, and—and 
one or two others.” 

"How funny of Herman!” said Polly, with a puz¬ 
zled half grin. "But see here, Zabbie,” she contin¬ 
ued, in a firm voice, "you have just got to attend to 
business more faithfully. I depend on you, and you 
don’t come. Aunt Retta is sick in bed this morning, 
and the kittens never were fed until just now.” 

"Well, I’m sorry,” said Zab, but not, Polly thought, 
in quite his usual tone of penitence. "I’m glad to 
help you, but after all, Polly, I don’t know why I 
should have to come over and feed your cats.” 

If the heavens had fallen, there, on the Stebbins 
driveway, Polly could not have been more aston¬ 
ished. What had come over her faithful servant? 
Had the moment arrived when she should have to 
tell him what all this cat business was for? No, she 
decided, not yet. 

"I thought you liked it when we worked together,” 
she said, smiling suddenly at him in a way that Zab 
had never been able to resist. But for once he was 
not looking at her. He was staring into space, and 


ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER 


157 


he had drawn his thick red eyebrows together, as he 
always did when he found speech difficult. 

"I’ve got to tell you something, Polly,” he burst 
out suddenly. "I can’t help you with the kittens any 
longer. I’ve found another job.” 

"Another job?” echoed Polly, "Where?” 

"Mr. Daggett has asked me to work for him over 
at the farm for the rest of the summer,” explained 
Zab. "It’s a regular all-day job. He’s going to help 
me to learn the dairy business, and if I don’t get to the 
Agricultural School in the fall he may keep me on all 
winter. It’s a swell chance, Polly, and I’ll be earning 
money to help me another year.” And his red face 
suddenly glowed with happiness—a happiness that 
had nothing whatever to do with her, Polly. For 
the first time she felt that she was not in the least 
important to Zab. 

"Why—that’s fine, Zabbie,” she said slowly. 
"When do you start?” 

"To-morrow,” said Zab, eager to talk, now that 
his confession was over. "That’s what I was doing 
this morning. Herman told me last night that his 
father wanted to see me about something important, 
so I went over right after breakfast. He took me 
all over the farm. I didn’t have time to attend to 
the kittens, truly I didn’t, Polly.” 

"That’s all right,” replied Polly, hardly knowing 
what she said. "I’m glad you’ve had a stroke of luck, 
Zabbie.” 


158 


LET POLLY DO IT 


Then she picked up the can of paint and turned 
toward the house. She felt that she wanted to get 
away somewhere by herself. 

"But Fll have the rest of the day,” said Zab, fol¬ 
lowing her, with a return of his old faithfulness, "and 
I’ll be glad to do anything you want me to.” 

"Well, you might make another crate or two, if 
you don’t mind,” said Polly, in an indifferent voice, 
"so that I can have them on hand.” 

Then she walked into the shed, and, having re¬ 
placed the paint, went on into the house and through 
the hall to Debby’s little workshop. There she sat 
down as usual on the old chest, her hands behind her 
head, her head against the wall, to think things over. 
So Zabbie was throwing her overboard—just like 
that . Of course it was a good opportunity for him, 
and of course he did not know that the money they 
were earning together was—but he did not act as if 
he really cared whether he went on helping her or 
not. Zabbie—George—Randall—none of them to be 
counted on. And now, when that letter reached its 
destination she would lose Debby’s respect. 

Polly bit her lip. For the first time in her life she 
felt very sorry for herself. This, however, was a mood 
so foreign to Polly’s nature that it could not last. 
In a few minutes she rose from the chest, her head 
erect, the old self-reliant tilt to her chin. Of all 
the despicable people in the world, she told herself, 
those who were sorry for themselves were the worst. 


ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER 


159 


What was it Aunt Retta had said about its not be¬ 
ing the Stebbins way to rebel at the inevitable? Well, 
she, Polly, would show that she was a Stebbins too. 
She would not let herself count on anybody again— 
anybody . She would depend wholly on herself. That 
was the only sure way—the Stebbins way. She would 
make a real go of the kitten business, single-handed. 
Until this summer, life had always been fun—well, it 
should go on being fun. Almost cheerful again, Polly 
strode out into the hall. As she did so the telephone 
bell rang. 

"Hello,” she said, taking up the receiver. "Oh, 
hello, Neddie— What, this afternoon?—Yes, I’m 
almost sure I can— All the way to Black Harbor? 
—Oh, that would be great! What do you mean, how 
do I happen to be so enthusiastic all of a sudden?” 
Polly laughed merrily into the transmitter, "Well, 
why shouldn’t I want to go? It’s a dandy day for a 
trip, isn’t it?—Don’t be a goose, now! Remember, no 
sweet nothings on the boat this afternoon, or I’ll 
swim ashore— Right-oh— Two thirty at the float— 
’By.” 

Polly hung up the receiver. Well, at least there 
was Neddie left. And she could always manage Ned¬ 
die. 



Chapter Twelve 

MORE CATS FOR POLLY 

I n the days that followed Polly found that, try as 
she would, there was not quite so much fun to 
be had out of life as usual. She could always, to be 
sure, go yachting with Ned, who let no day pass 
without calling up on the telephone. But, although 
the motor-boat was jolly, one could have a bit too 
much of Neddie. Besides, while Aunt Retta re¬ 
mained in her room there were countless things to be 
done about the house and even when at the end of 
two weeks Miss Henrietta insisted upon coming cau¬ 
tiously downstairs again upon her crutches, Polly 
found that her aunts still needed all the help that 


160 
























MORE CATS FOR POLLY 


161 


she could give. Every day she realized more clearly 
how much they depended upon her, and thought 
with fresh misery of that wretched letter to Debby. 
She must, she supposed, write again and somehow 
take back what she had said. But what would be the 
use? Long before Debby could receive any words of 
contrition she would have already made up her mind 
about the sister whom she had not seen for four 
years. And until Debby’s suggestions arrived there 
was no sense in opening the subject of college with 
the aunts. Instead of looking eagerly forward to 
Debby’s letters, Polly found that she began to have 
a dread of their arrival, which was foolish of course 
because it would be weeks, fully the middle of Aug¬ 
ust, before she could look for an answer to her letter. 
But all Debby’s accounts of their happy Italian life, 
all her affectionate interest in what was going on at 
the Stebbins mansion, seemed to send a renewed pang 
through Polly and she was glad when she found 
nothing at all in the mail box. 

One day, about a week after Aunt Retta’s acci¬ 
dent, she found a postal card from Randall saying 
that he was starting for University of Chicago on 
business connected with his work next year and that 
he could not tell how long he would be away. He did 
not know when his mother and the twins would 
come back from Thomaston, but doubtless they 
would let Polly know when they needed her. That 
was all, no mention of the laboratory position, no 


162 


LET POLLY DO IT 


word to show that he felt any regret that their sum¬ 
mer work together was given up, and the card was 
signed, "'Yours truly, Randall Gage.” Her lips set 
tight, Polly walked directly to the kitchen and, this 
time, dropped her missive into the stove. So their 
friendship was nothing to him! She would not let 
herself think about him any more. And she put the 
lid back on the stove with a bang that made Jennie 
in the pantry jump. 

But Polly discovered that it was one thing to say 
that she would not think of Randall Gage and quite 
another to keep her resolution. Every time that she 
took the potato parer out of the kitchen drawer she 
was reminded of scalpels, whenever she frolicked with 
the kittens her mind went back to the yellow fluff- 
balls among the buttercups, and once, when she saw 
a lizard in the grass, she bit her lip so hard that it 
hurt. 

And Polly missed her merry afternoons with the 
twins. One day she passed them, driving with their 
grandmother and aunt along the Thomaston road. 
She waved gaily to them from Flossie, and Philip 
and Alexander, leaning from the window with 
shouts of joy, almost decapitated themselves in their 
effort to see Polly again. But the days went by and 
nobody came back to live at the white cottage, al¬ 
though every night when Polly went up to bed, she 
looked through the front window of the upper hall, 


MORE CATS FOR POLLY 


163 


to see if by chance there were lights twinkling again 
over on West Hill. 

"How far we can see when there is a moon/’ said 
Aunt Nell one evening, looking over Polly’s shoul¬ 
der. 

Did Aunt Nelly, who understood so many things, 
suspect her of being sentimental about the house 
where Randall lived, thought Polly, with a faint 
shudder. After that she was careful not to let her¬ 
self look out of that particular window. 

It seemed funny, too, without Zab. During all 
the years that Polly had lived in Bellport there had 
been hardly a day that he had not come over early 
to the Stebbins mansion, his freckled face full of 
pleasant anticipation of what they should do to¬ 
gether, his willing hands ready to execute her orders. 
Lately, to be sure, Zabbie had been rather unreliable, 
had seemed at times even a little rebellious, but he 
had always come back. Now Polly scarcely saw him, 
except occasionally in the evening or on his half 
day off Saturday. Then his conscience seemed to 
trouble him for he appeared regularly to clean the 
shed for Polly, in his old faithful way, and to do any 
odd jobs that she had saved for him. One week 
when he could not come himself, he sent the Dag¬ 
gers’ niece, Ethel, in his place, because, as he told 
Polly afterwards on the telephone, he knew she was 
fond of kittens. 


164 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"Well, don’t send her again, Zabbie, thanks just 
the same,” Polly had retorted. "She let three kittens 
escape into the garden, and she burnt the fish to the 
bottom of the pan—and I had to take her home in 
Flossie because she was afraid she should meet the cows 
on the way.” And after that Zab did not send any¬ 
body, although the occasions when he could not come 
himself grew more and more frequent. 

The kittens, on the whole, brought Polly the most 
satisfaction during this tiresome and anxious sum¬ 
mer. For, in spite of Zab’s defection, the business 
flourished beyond all her expectations. It was far 
better not to depend on other people, Polly told her¬ 
self with conviction. And yet she was not working 
altogether single-handed. Old Dr. Hill, whose eyes 
always twinkled when he looked at Polly, showed 
great interest in the enterprise whenever he came 
to see Aunt Retta and spread the news of Polly’s cats 
even to the big hotels at Black Harbor and Rocky 
Point where he had several patients during the sum¬ 
mer. There was hardly a day, indeed, when a car 
did not stop at the gate of the Stebbins mansion to 
enquire for the famous cats. Polly spent hours con¬ 
structing little crates, and she did not dare to tell 
Aunt Retta and Aunt Nell how very far and wide 
she and Flossie scoured the country farms to keep 
up the supply of kittens. 

But Polly liked to be busy and as she drove along 
the midsummer roads, fragrant with wild roses and 


MORE CATS FOR POLLY 


16$ 


bayberry and little spruces in the sunshine, she found 
it easy to forget unpleasant things. Once, when the 
road led her past the field where she and Randall 
had chased the kittens, she forced herself to look at 
it coolly, with steady eyes and chin cocked high. 
There was nothing more to one field than another! 

And so the weeks went on, and Polly rejoiced to 
see how her account in the Bellport Savings Bank 
was growing. By the last week in August there 
would be nearly, if not quite, a hundred dollars 
and then she would tell her secret, at least to the 
one who was most concerned. Georgie-Porgie really 
had kept it for her pretty well. Georgie-Porgie! He 
had not turned up again all summer after the night 
of the break. Well, he evidently did know what was 
good for him. Once, when life at the Stebbins man¬ 
sion seemed more than usually without zest, Polly 
caught herself half wishing for a sight of her lively 
cousin. Then, remembering his idiotic note, she made 
a face at nothing in particular. 

At last it was time to begin to look for an answer 
to her letter to Debby, and Polly walked out to the 
mail box twice a day with a beating heart. But the 
middle of August came and went and there was no 
letter. Perhaps Debby was so disgusted that she was 
not going to write at all, thought Polly, her usual 
good sense deserting her in her morbid anxiety. But 
the strange part of it was that after the first week in 
August nobody heard from Debby and genuine alarm 


166 


LET POLLY DO IT 


took possession of the Stebbins mansion. Aunt Retta’s 
irritability increased as it always did when she was 
under mental stress, and Aunt Nell’s face seemed to 
Polly even more white and transparent than it had 
been all through the difficult summer. 

"She may have strained her wrist again, as she did 
last winter,” suggested Aunt Nell. 

"Then why doesn’t Eric write?” demanded Aunt 
Retta. "He ought to know how anxious we are. I 
declare, men are all alike. They are never to be 
trusted in a family emergency.” Miss Henrietta was 
indeed very much upset, for if she trusted any one, 
it was Debby’s husband. 

Then one morning in the last week of August 
Polly, who now again had begun to look eagerly for 
Henry Gill’s old Ford, found another postal card 
from Randall in the box. 

Dear Polly, (it read) 

I’m leaving Chicago at last. Have had a bully 
time, and got filled to the brim for next year. 
Shall be back in Bellport the first of next week, 
to stay until college opens. And am I glad! 
What about you? 

Yours, 

R. G. 

What did he mean—"what about you”? Did he 
after all, want her to be glad? "Yours, R. G.”! 
Polly, coming back up the walk to the house, her 
eyes still on the card, smiled in spite of herself. Well, 


MORE CATS FOR POLLY 


167 


she would be nice to him—if she had time! Though 
this next week was going to be awfuly busy! Then 
Polly, ever honest with herself, laughed aloud. Of 
course she should be glad to see him, why shouldn’t 
she be? One always had jolly times with Randall. 
And she went into the house with such a rush that 
she almost upset Aunt Retta, who was coming 
through the drawing-room door. 

"Wasn’t there anything?” enquired Miss Henrietta 
sharply. 

"Anything?” echoed Polly. "Oh—no.” For the 
moment she had forgotten even Debby’s letter. 

"I wish you’d keep your wits about you, Polly,” 
said Aunt Retta, turning abruptly back into the 
drawing-room. "Sometimes you act positively moon¬ 
struck.” 

And Polly, horrified, went on down the hall, and 
hastily dropped Randall’s second card into the kitchen 
stove. But she had no need to look at it again for she 
knew every word of it by heart. When later in the 
day she found herself actually singing about the 
house, she was horrified again. What had come over 
her that she should feel so gay in the midst of this 
worry about Debby? Never had she seen her aunts 
so genuinely alarmed. 

"Do you think that we ought to cable?” said 
Aunt Retta, pushing her plate away from her at 
luncheon. 

"Perhaps we might wait a few days,” said Aunt 


168 


LET POLLY DO IT 


Nell. "There have been delays before, you know.” 

"But never anything like this,” said Aunt Retta 
positively, rising from the table, though she had 
eaten scarcely anything. "I shall not wait after 
Tuesday.” 

When, soon after luncheon, old Judge Parker came 
across the street, to invite the aunts to go for a drive, 
Polly drew a sigh of relief. Aunt Retta could never 
be persuaded to enter any car except the Judge’s, 
but he had been for years in charge of the Stebbins 
affairs, and was trusted in all things. The drive would 
do them both good, thought Polly, closing the door 
of the car, after settling her aunts with cushions and 
rug in the back seat. And what fun it would be to 
have the house to herself. With a wave to the depart¬ 
ing car, she went quickly back up the walk. There 
were heaps of things that she wanted to do. Perhaps 
she might even slide down the banisters again, as 
she used to in the days when she and Debby first 
came to live at the Stebbins mansion. Debby! Surely 
they would hear in a day or two. Letters often went 
astray, and Aunt Retta and Aunt Nell were unduly 
alarmed. Polly ran up the stairs two steps at a time. 
What should she do first? 

But she was not long to have the house to herself. 
For, coming down a half hour later—not, after all, 
on the banisters—she was startled to hear the sud¬ 
den clang of the doorbell, echoing through the great 
house, as it only did when one was alone. 


MORE CATS FOR POLLY 


169 


"Oh!” said Polly, in frank astonishment, as she 
opened the door, for there stood Miss Maria Pickett, 
fluttery and wind-blown as usual, her shabby black 
hat on one side, a large covered basket tied with a 
heavy cord, in her hand. Miss Pickett was not, so far 
as Polly knew, in the habit of calling at the Stebbins 
mansion although she had come once or twice to the 
kitchen door to see Jennie, who was some sort of dis¬ 
tant relation. 

"Won’t you come in?” said Polly, recovering from 
her surprise, and opening the screen. "I am sorry 
that both my aunts have gone out.” 

"Yes,” said Miss Pickett, stepping timidly into the 
hall, "I saw them driving by with Judge Parker. 
That’s why I came. I want to see you. I’ve been plan¬ 
ning to all summer.” 

More mystified than ever, Polly led the way into 
the drawing-room and pulled out a chair for Miss 
Pickett who sat stiffly down on the edge of it. She 
looked so little and shabby that Polly felt suddenly 
guilty to think that she had ever taken money for 
those ridiculous thunder storms, and was for once at 
a loss how to begin the conversation. But there was 
no need, for Miss Pickett, it seemed, had come not to 
be entertained but on a definite errand. As soon as 
she was seated with Polly on the opposite chair, she 
lifted her basket into her lap and began fumblingly, 
in her black cotton gloves, to untie the cord. 

"I’ve brought you something, Polly,” she said. "I 


170 


LET POLLY DO IT 


want you to have them for your business. I’ve been 
waiting until they were big enough. They’re the 
handsomest ones that Six-Toes has ever had.” 

So saying, Miss Pickett removed the cover and 
held out the basket. In it were two of the silver- 
gray kittens, whose mother had taken the prize at 
the Portland Cat Show. 

"Oh, Miss Pickett, how wonderful of you!” ex¬ 
claimed Polly, lifting the charming gray bunches 
into her lap and burying her fingers deep in their 
fine silky ruffs. "They’re darlings, and I do appreci¬ 
ate your bringing them—but, indeed I couldn’t take 
them. There’s no reason why you should give them 
to me, and you can always get a good price yourself, 
you know.” As she spoke, Polly noticed, in the strong 
afternoon light from the windows, that Miss Pick¬ 
ett’s well-brushed jacket and skirt were actually 
threadbare. 

"Yes, you must take them, Polly,” insisted Miss 
Pickett, leaning forward, her thin face pinched with 
earnestness, her fluttery voice more trembling than 
usual. "And there is a reason. I’ve always wanted 
to do something for the Stebbins, but there never 
seemed to be anything. And then when you told 
me about your cats the day of the storm, I knew I 
had something at last. You must take them. I feel 
I’m paying a little of the debt.” 

"The debt?” echoed Polly in astonishment. 

"Yes,” Miss Pickett hurried on, "your aunts, you 


MORE CATS FOR POLLY 


171 


know—before my brother died and the mortgage 
was going to be foreclosed. They held part of it and 
they gave up going to California to help straighten 
it out. They saved the house for us. But Miss Henri¬ 
etta wouldn’t ever let me speak of it afterwards. 
'Stebbinses don’t want any thanks,’ she said—I re¬ 
member her words to this day—Tf there’s anything 
it is their duty to give up,’ she said, 'they give it up, 
and that’s the end of it.’ She’s a grand woman, Polly, 
and we’re proud of the Stebbins name in Bellport, 
but you know how Miss Henrietta is—she sort of 
shuts you up.” 

"Yes,” replied Polly vaguely, her eyes fastened on 
Miss Pickett’s face, her hands stroking the kittens. 

"Now don’t say any more, child, they’re for you,” 
said Miss Pickett, rising with nervous haste from her 
chair, and placing the cover on her basket, as if she 
were afraid that Polly might try to put the kittens 
back into it. "And now I’ll be going and I don’t 
want any thanks either, only I wish Six-Toes had had 
twenty kittens!” 

Polly, smiling faintly at this large responsibility 
for Six-Toes, followed her caller across the drawing¬ 
room into the hall, and opened the front door. 

"But I do thank you, just the same, Miss Pickett,” 
she said mechanically, as she closed the screen. 

For many minutes she stood just inside, the kit¬ 
tens still in her arms, and watched the stooping fig¬ 
ure with the basket, as it disappeared up the road, 


172 


LET POLLY DO IT 


but her mind was neither on cats nor on Miss Pickett. 
"If there is anything it is their duty to give up, they 
give it up, and that’s the end of it!” Even Miss Pickett 
knew the tradition of the Stebbins, and took pride in 
it because it was the best in Bellport. Aunt Retta 
had given up her chance to go out into the world, 
without question, as a matter of course, just for poor 
forlorn little Miss Pickett. And now she, Polly— 
Polly turned abruptly from the screen. Why she 
had not even offered to drive her visitor home, and 
it was a hot and dusty walk along the Thomaston 
road in the sun. How long had she been standing at 
the screen door? Perhaps she could still overtake 
Miss Pickett. Quickly she ran back through the hall, 
to put the kittens in the shed and get the car. 

But Miss Pickett was destined, after all, to walk 
home by herself, for a minute later, as Flossie came 
jouncing out of the driveway, it suddenly occurred 
to Polly that she had forgotten to lock the front 
door. Stopping the car, she looked back, just in 
time to be convinced that something or some¬ 
body was disappearing surreptitiously into the house 
through the screen. 



Chapter Thirteen 

OTHER CATS LET OUT OF BAGS 

P olly noiselessly opened the screen and stepped 
into the hall, then hastily put her hand over her 
mouth, to stifle the sound of surprise at what she 
saw through the drawing-room door. For on Aunt 
Retta’s most elegant Chippendale chair reposed a 
large striped cotton bag which wiggled, and tip¬ 
toeing around the room, touching and peering at 
all the treasures that filled it, were Philip and Alex¬ 
ander Gage. 

The twins, as a matter of fact, had long wanted 
to find out just what was behind that mysterious 
door, past which they had always been hurried on 
the rare occasions when Polly had brought them into 


» 


173 



174 


LET POLLY DO IT 


the house and they were now making the most of 
their opportunity. Their small square backs were 
turned toward Polly, and for several seconds they 
continued to rub their stubby fingers along the ma¬ 
hogany tables and the pewters and porcelains which 
covered them, quite unaware of the interested eyes 
at the door. Then Philip, looking up, suddenly saw 
a reflection in the glass of a picture and whirled 
around. 

"Oh Polly,” he cried, running eagerly across the 
room, Alexander at his heels, "we thought you’d 
gone out.” 

"The door was open, so we came in,” said Alex¬ 
ander, evidently feeling that some explanation was 
due. "We’ve got something for you.” And the 
twins looked over their shoulders at the cotton bag. 

It was always well to take heed when Alexander 
spoke, but for a moment Polly just looked down at 
them, standing so joyfully before her, and smiled 
as she had not smiled for weeks. She would not have 
believed that she could be so glad to see those two 
lively rascals. 

"We came back last night,” said Philip, "and we 
came over as soon as we could.” 

"How did you get here by yourselves?” demanded 
Polly, suddenly sober again. "Does your grandmother 
know about it?” 

"We came across the fields,” said Philip, avoiding 
Polly’s second question. 


OTHER CATS LET OUT OF BAGS 


175 


"We wanted to bring you a present,” said Alex¬ 
ander. 

"The bag was awfully heavy,” said Philip. 

"You can open it now if you want to,” said Alex¬ 
ander. 

The twins ran across the room, and stood expec¬ 
tantly one on each side of the cotton bag, looking up 
at Polly. 

"You’ll like them,” added Alexander. "There were 
some more and a big one, but we only got these.” 

Polly, fumbling with the cord, as Miss Pickett 
had fumbled on that same chair not half an hour 
ago, thought that she had never heard Alexander 
make so many remarks. 

The twins watched impatiently while Polly pulled 
open the top of the bag, and took one glance inside, 
but they were quite unprepared for what happened 
next. Jerking the drawing-strings, Polly snatched 
up the bag and, holding it at arm’s length, went on 
flying feet across the drawing-room and hall and out 
the front door. For, sitting on Aunt Retta’s most ele¬ 
gant Chippendale chair, had been two small striped 
wood-pussies! 

So swiftly did Polly go that she was already half 
way across the lawn before the twins reached the 
steps. 

"Don’t you want any more kitties?” said Philip, 
in a disappointed voice, catching up with her at 
last. 


176 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"Aren’t they nice enough?” said Alexander. 

"No,” said Polly, "they wouldn’t sell well. Where 
did you find them?” She set the bag gingerly down 
on the grass by the edge of the driveway, and turned 
upon the twins, straight and square beside her. When 
Polly spoke in that tone, Philip and Alexander in¬ 
stinctively stood at attention. 

"In the pasture on West Hill,” replied Philip. 

"Do you know just where?” continued Polly. 

"Yes,” said Philip, "by the big bushes.” 

"Come on, then,” she said, marshalling them both 
ahead of her toward the car. 

Polly backed Flossie to where the bag lay on the 
edge of the grass. She lifted it carefully into the 
back of the car, tossing her coat to safety in the 
front, where Philip and Alexander at once came to 
blows as to who should hold it. 

"Be quiet, you two,” said Polly, in a strange low 
voice, "or I’ll put you both out.” 

Philip allowed Alexander to hold one sleeve of the 
coat, and they started off down Stebbins hill, with 
as little jouncing as possible. 

"Where are we going?” said Philip. 

"To take the kitties back to their mother,” re¬ 
plied Polly, shortly. 

The twins had wanted so much to be friends again 
after all these weeks, and now the very first thing 
Polly seemed seriously displeased with them. 

"Uncle Ranny’s maybe coming soon,” ventured 


OTHER CATS LET OUT OF BAGS 177 

Philip, in an effort to be agreeable, looking up at 
Polly. 

"Sh-sh!” said Polly. 

After that nobody said a word until they came 
to the pasture which ran up to the white cottage. 
There Polly drew Flossie to the side of the road and 
slipping out, took the bag from the back. Holding 
it again at arm’s length, she walked up into the pas¬ 
ture. Philip and Alexander, their heads filling the 
car window, watched her set the bag cautiously on 
the ground by the bushes, and pull it open, so that 
the kitties could walk out. Then she came running 
back down the hill, looking so much like the old Polly 
that the twins scrambled out of the car to meet her. 

'Tick my coat out of the dirt, rascals,” she com¬ 
manded, pointing to where they had dropped it in 
the road. She rumpled their hair in the old cheerful 
way, then boosted them up on the wall. "Sit there 
a minute,” she said, standing before them, "while I 
tell you about skunks.” 

The twins, dangling their corduroy legs in front 
of Polly, were very still for about two minutes. Then 
Philip slid suddenly to the ground, his forehead puck¬ 
ered by a new and disturbing idea. 

"Are you going to leave the bag up in the pasture?” 
he enquired. 

"Yes,” said Polly. 

"But Granny won’t like it,” protested Philip earn¬ 
estly, "and Aunt Emma won’t either.” 


178 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"It’s new,” explained Alexander, his forehead also 
puckered. "Aunt Emma just made it, and she sewed 
Granny’s name on it in pink letters.” 

"Well, mind what I said, and don’t go near it un¬ 
til to-morrow,” admonished Polly, shaking her finger 
impressively. "Now, you two run up the hill as fast 
as you can to your Granny. I’ll come over to-morrow, 
and perhaps we’ll go for a ride.” 

"We want to go now,” said Philip, in despair at 
losing Polly again, having just found her. 

"No,” said Polly firmly, walking around the car 
and getting quickly into it, "I must go home now. 
Which of you is smart enough to get up to the house 
first!” 

"I am!” cried both the twins, and started off, 
running sturdily. 

But they had no real interest in the race, and at 
the first bend in the road they stopped with one ac¬ 
cord, and turned to look after Polly, who was al¬ 
ready far down the road, chugging along in a cloud 
of dust. 

"Don’t let’s go home yet,” said Alexander, think¬ 
ing of Granny and Aunt Emma and the new laundry 
bag. 

"No,” said Philip, with the same thought. 

"Let’s go down and sit on the wall, and try to get 
a ride with somebody,” said Alexander. 

"Yes,” said Philip. 

So they ran down the hill again, to the spot where 


OTHER CATS LET OUT OF BAGS 179 

Polly had left them. But they did not get up on the 
wall. 

“What’s that in the dirt?” said Philip, pointing. 

They both went out into the middle of the road, 
and Alexander picked up a small thin book. There 
were no pictures in it, only uninteresting writing 
and numbers. 

“Maybe it’s Polly’s,” said Philip. 

“There’s a name on the outside,” said Alexander. 

The twins put their heads together and studied 
the cover. They could read very little, but they knew 
their letters. 

“It’s not Polly’s name,” said Philip. 

“Z-a-b-d-i-e-1 E-a-t-o-n,” spelled Alexander, and 
he tried sounding the words. “I know,” he said, “it’s 
that red-haired boy who lives next to Polly.” 

“Shall we take it to Polly?” suggested Philip, who 
was eager for an excuse to go back to the Stebbins 
mansion. 

“No,” decided Alexander, after a moment’s con¬ 
sideration, “she wouldn’t like it. Don’t you remember 
she told us that day we took Uncle Ranny’s note that 
the next time we found anything with a name on it, 
we must take it right back to the person?” 

“If we take it back to Zab’s house, perhaps we’ll 
see Polly,” said Philip, pleased at this prospect. 

“Yes,” said Alexander. “We’ll sit on the wall, and 
perhaps we can get a ride back.” 

So Philip and Alexander climbed up on the stones, 


180 


LET POLLY DO IT 


and sat side by side, peering up the road. But the 
very first car that came along was going the other 
way and when the twins looked around to see what 
kind of a one it was, who should be sitting behind the 
wheel of the truck but Zabdiel Eaton himself! 

"We found something of yours,” shouted Philip, 
jumping down from the wall, and running to the 
edge of the road, followed by Alexander, waving the 
little book. 

Zab put on his brakes and brought the truck to a 
stop. 

"Hello,” he said. "What’s up?” 

"It’s got your name on it,” said Philip, while Alex¬ 
ander held out the little book. "We found it in the 
road.” 

Zab reached down and took the book, looking at 
it with a puzzled expression. He opened it and read 
in it, turning the pages, then glanced back at the 
cover and read some more. The longer he read, the 
more puzzled he looked and he seemed to have for¬ 
gotten the twins entirely. After a minute or two he 
put the little book in his pocket and started his 
engine. 

"Won’t you even give us a ride?” said Philip, while 
both the twins looked up in despair. The ambition 
of their lives was some day to ride behind the wheel 
of a real truck. 

"Nope,” said Zab shortly, "not today.” And he 
rumbled off up the road, leaving Philip and Alexander 


OTHER CATS LET OUT OF BAGS 181 

looking solemnly after the truck. Their afternoon 
had been a complete failure. 

Polly, meanwhile, rattled along toward home at 
Flossie’s topmost speed. Her one object was to get 
back to the Stebbins mansion before the aunts, for 
she remembered that this time she really had left the 
door unlocked. And all the way home, in the rattle 
of the engine, she could seem to hear the words which 
Miss Pickett had spoken, repeating themselves over 
and over, in a sort of sing-song and pushing even the 
thought of the amusing adventure with the twins 
into the background, "If there is anything to give 
up, they give it up, and that’s the end of it.” The 
Stebbins way! Well, if she did not hear from Debby 
tomorrow, she would go to Aunt Retta and make an 
end of it somehow. "If there is anything to give up, 
they give it up, and that’s the end of it.” What a 
summer it had been, and what a day! But although 
Polly did not know it, this amazing afternoon had 
only begun. 

"Good grief!” exclaimed Polly aloud, as she came 
in sight of the Stebbins mansion. For Judge Parker’s 
car was just backing out of the driveway, and Aunt 
Retta’s crutches were at that very moment disap¬ 
pearing through the unlocked front door. 

Polly might, of course, have gone in through the 
shed door and given perhaps the appearance of having 
been all the time at home. But that, she thought a 
little grimly, was not the Stebbins way, so she walked 


182 


LET POLLY DO IT 


around to the front door and followed her aunts into 
the house. They were standing in the hall, Aunt Nell 
helping her sister to remove her wraps. At the sound 
of the opening screen, Miss Henrietta turned on her 
crutches. 

"Well, Polly,” she said sternly, "what have you to 
say for yourself? Do you realize that anybody— 
anybody at all—might have stepped in here from the 
street, and helped themselves to hundreds of dollars 
worth of valuables?” 

"I’m sorry, Aunt Retta,” said Polly, "but I went 
out in a hurry.” 

"I am sure I cannot think of any hurry,” said Miss 
Henrietta, "that would excuse such an oversight.” 

"No,” said Polly, and grinned in spite of herself. 
Aunt Retta was indeed unlikely to think of wood- 
pussies reposing on her most elegant Chippendale 
chair. 

"I suppose your mind was on cats, as usual,” con¬ 
tinued Aunt Retta, then, looking with still greater 
severity at her niece, "and I want you to understand, 
Polly, once and for all, that I will not have you laugh¬ 
ing at me when I am speaking of serious matters. If 
I ever find the door unlocked again I shall take drastic 
measures, and if you are a Stebbins at all, you will 
not have to be spoken to again.” 

"I don’t believe I am,” said Polly, in a low voice, 
walking past her aunts down the hall, her face quite 
sober again. 


OTHER CATS LET OUT OF BAGS 


183 


How could one even try to be a Stebbins in this 
house, and did Aunt Retta ever stop to consider that 
being one might include also being a little just and 
forbearing! Would one ever be able to resolve to 
speak to Aunt Retta about anything without finding 
her at once utterly intolerable? Polly stood still in 
the middle of the kitchen and looked at the tea-kettle. 
A tea-kettle is a soothing thing and after a minute or 
two Polly began to feel better. Of course she had 
been careless about the door, though who would run 
off in twenty minutes with a lot of old tables and 
bric-a-brac. What was the use of letting Aunt Retta 
get on one’s nerves? She was tired with her ride and 
all, poor old dear, and needed her tea. Perhaps after 
she had had it, she could even be regaled with the 
wood-pussies and the Chippendale chair. Polly chuck¬ 
led in anticipation of Aunt Retta’s expression. She 
walked across the kitchen to the tea-kettle, filled it 
and put it on the stove. Perhaps, though, Aunt Retta 
would not get the full flavor of the adventure. "A 
grand woman,” said Miss Pickett, "but she sort of— 
shuts you up.” And the twins might be banished 
from the Stebbins mansion forever. 

Having set out the cups and the cream, Polly re¬ 
membered that she had not looked at the silver-gray 
kittens since she had thrust them hastily into the 
shed an hour ago. 

Going on to the back hall, Polly carefully opened 
the shed door and slipped through. A swift glance 


184 


LET POLLY DO IT 


assured her that all was well with her new treasures, 
who were curled up together, away from the other 
kittens, on the table by the window. Polly walked 
across the shed, and put her cheek down on the soft 
bunch of fur, which immediately began to purr. 

It was just then that she smelled a cigarette. Had 
Zab been over? Zabbie did not often smoke, only 
when he wanted to make the other boys think that 
he was a regular fellow. Then, all at once, she noticed 
that the smell was coming in through the window. 
Quickly opening the door beside her, Polly looked 
out. 

"Well, for heaven’s sake!” she said. "Where did you 
come from?” 

For stretched out on the settee beneath the window, 
his hands behind his head, was George. 



Chapter Fourteen 

POLLY HEARS AN EXPLANATION 

W hy on earth didn’t you come in at the front 
door, like a civilized man?” said Polly, sur¬ 
veying George critically, as he stood straight and 
handsome in his usual faultless yachting clothes, in 
the middle of the shed. She was trying her best to 
appear stern and indifferent but it was many weeks 
since the night of the break and George had never 
looked so jolly. In spite of all she could do, there was 
the shadow of her alluring smile about the corners 
of her mouth. 

"Well, there didn’t seem to be anybody around,” 
said George, with a grin, "and considering last time, 
I thought I wouldn’t try another entrance without 


185 

















186 


LET POLLY DO IT 


an escort. Is Aunt Retta O.K.?” he added, as an after¬ 
thought. 

"I should say it was about time you showed a little 
concern,” said Polly. 

"I’m almost sure I called up the next day from 
Rockland,” protested George. "Didn’t Jennie give 
you the message?” 

"No,” said Polly, "she didn’t and don’t prevaricate. 
As it happens, Aunt Retta wasn’t much hurt. Where, 
by the way, have you been all this time?” 

"Clear to Eastport,” said George, his face lighting 
up. "I met some fellows I know, with some other 
people on a big yacht, and we had a dandy cruise.” 

"Oh,” said Polly, contemplating George for a mo¬ 
ment with a meditative eye. "Was she pretty?” 

"Who? The yacht?” said George, looking at Polly 
in astonishment. 

"No, stupid,” said Polly, "the girl.” And she 
laughed outright. "Don’t tell me you bought all those 
elegant new clothes you’ve got on for the benefit 
of the fellows on the big yacht!” 

"You sure beat the Dutch, Polly,” said George, his 
bronzed cheeks a trifle redder than before. 

"What’s her name, Georgie-Porgie?” demanded 
Polly gaily. "Out with it!” 

"Mabel,” said George, fairly cornered. "And I say, 
Polly, she’s sure a peach. You’ll like her.” 

"Perhaps,” said Polly, raising her eyebrows. "But, 
come on. I’ve got the water on for tea. You’d better 


POLLY HEARS AN EXPLANATION 


187 


drink a cup and make your peace with Aunt Retta. 
You never said goodbye to her last time, you know.” 
And Polly started toward the kitchen. 

George, however, strode ahead of her, and blocked 
the way to the door. 

"See here, Polly,” he said, "I want to talk to you 
first. Pm in a jam.” 

"As usual,” said Polly. "What now?” 

"Well, Fve had some extra expenses ("White flan¬ 
nels!” murmured Polly) and Mother says I’ve had 
my last check till I get home, and the fact is, Fve 
not enough to take the boat to Portland and put her 
up for the winter. I don’t dare make the trip without 
some gas.” 

"What do you want me to do, spendthrift?” en¬ 
quired Polly. 

"Well, I thought perhaps you could suggest to 
Aunt Retta—” began George. 

"No,” said Polly, shortly, "nothing in it. You can 
do your own suggesting, only you’d better wait until 
she’s had her tea.” 

"Oh, come on, Polly, be a good pal,” begged George. 

Polly shook her head. 

"You may not know it,” she replied, "but it is 
weeks since I have had the slightest use for you.” 

"What in time’s the matter?” said George, staring 
at his cocky young cousin in genuine astonishment. 
"You’re not still mad about that silly break, are you, 
now that Aunt Retta is O.K.?” 


188 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"No,” said Polly, looking him straight in the eye, 
"but you can just apologize here and now for that 
idiotic note.” 

"What note?” said George, clearly bewildered. 

"You know very well what note,” retorted Polly, 
her eyes blacker and brighter than George had ever 
seen them. 

"No, I don’t,” he said, but it seemed to Polly that 
his voice faltered. 

"What about that stuff that you left in the mail¬ 
box?” she said, raising her eyebrows. 

"I didn’t leave anything in the mail-box,” said 
George—and now she was sure that his eyes wavered. 

"No Stebbins,” said Polly, in accents ridiculously 
like Aunt Retta’s, "would stoop to such a transparent 
fib! Come with me, Perfidious Jones.” And, pushing 
George ahead of her, Polly made her way among the 
kittens and out the door, closing it carefully. 

"Where is Aunt Retta?” enquired George, follow¬ 
ing Polly reluctantly into the kitchen. 

"Having her tea in the drawing-room with Aunt 
Nell, I suppose,” said Polly, with a glance at the 
stove and the table, from which the preparations for 
tea had vanished. "Where you also will be presently, 
when I am through with you,” she added, with a 
mischievous glance over her shoulder. 

Then she led the way through the back hall and 
into Debby’s little studio, walking directly across to 
the table by the window, the drawer of which she 



POLLY HEARS AN EXPLANATION 189 

had long used for important memorabilia. She opened 
it and fumbled around, turning over a few things 
that made her frown, and one that made her smile. 
Gee-whiz, thought George, watching her from the 
middle of the room, Polly was getting more irresisti¬ 
ble every day, why she was actually stunning in that 
red blouse, and he had forgotten that smile during 
the voyage to Eastport. But what the deuce did she 
think she had on him now? 

"Here it is,” said Polly at last, uncovering an en¬ 
velope at the bottom of the drawer, and holding it 
out triumphantly to her cousin. "What do you sup¬ 
pose Mabel would think of this?” 

George took the envelope, which had his own name 
on it, and read the note which it contained with 
apparent stupefaction. He read it twice, then stared 
at the envelope, as if he could not believe his eyes. 

"But—but I destroyed that!” he stammered. "I 
tore it to bits. Wh—where did you get it?” 

He looked so baffled and helpless, standing there in 
the middle of the room, that Polly laughed in her 
old merry way. 

"You must be confusing it with a missive to Mabel,” 
she said, her eyes twinkling. "I found it, as I said, 
reposing in our mail-box the morning after you van¬ 
ished. It’s a good thing you didn’t come back when 
I first got it but I believe I’ll forgive you now, Georgy- 
Porgy, if you’ll start in to tell the truth, only don’t 
get down on your knees on this dusty floor. Keep 


190 


LET POLLY DO IT 


your new flannels for the deck of the yacht and 
Mabel!” 

But George was for once quite impervious to Polly’s 
banter. He was still staring at the note, and fingering 
it, as if he doubted its reality. 

"I am telling the truth,” he said. "I admit I did 
put it in the mail-box the night I skipped, but when 
I got down to the foot of the hill I rather wished I 
hadn’t—thought it might sound like a bit of rot. 
("It did!” murmured Polly.) So I came back and 
took it out, and when I got down to that sewer hole 
by the library, I tore it up and dropped it through 
the grating.” 

Polly looked sharply at George, for he really did 
act as if he were telling the truth. 

"Did you look at it again before you tore it?” she 
said slowly, her brows contracted, as they always were 
when she was thinking out something puzzling. 

"No,” said George. "It was dark all the way down 
the hill, and the light in front of the library was on 
the blink. What’s the matter?” For Polly’s face was 
suddenly all alight. 

"Then how could you be sure it was your own note 
that you destroyed?” she demanded, clasping her 
hands tightly together in front of her. 

"Why—there wasn’t anything else in the mail-box 
at that time of night, was there?” said George. 

"Yes, there was!” cried Polly. "I put a letter in 
before I went to bed. The envelope was just this 


POLLY HEARS AN EXPLANATION 


191 


shape. When you reached in you must have taken 
that by mistake !” 

"But this one has a loose flap,” said George, still 
staring at it. "It was an old one I happened to have 
in my pocket.” 

"I may have forgotten to seal mine,” said Polly 
quickly, "so that they would feel just alike. That’s 
exactly what happened!” 

"Then—then, you mean you think I tore up your 
letter,” faltered George doubtfully. His reactions 
were always slower than Polly’s. 

"Yes,” she cried. And to George’s utter astonish¬ 
ment, she seized him by both arms and began to waltz 
him around the room, whistling the gayest of tunes. 

She pushed him finally up against the table, on the 
edge of which he sat for a moment to catch his breath. 

"What’s the matter with you anyway, Polly?” he 
said, still puzzled. "Say, I am sorry about that letter.” 

"You needn’t be,” said Polly, standing exuberantly 
before him. "Isn’t there something called a 'deus ex 
machina’—well, you’re it!” And she beamed at her 
cousin for a moment with the most radiant smile that 
the nonplussed George had ever seen. 

That letter to Debby had never gone at all! Every¬ 
thing was just as it had been in July! She could begin 
all over again! With a gesture of happy abandon, 
Polly swung around toward the door. 

"Come on, Georgy-Porgy,” she said. "You’ll have 
to do your own begging but I’ll go in with you and 


192 


LET POLLY DO IT 


have some tea. You’re not such a bad pal after all.” 

George slipped reluctantly off the edge of the 
table, but as he hesitated there was a peremptory 
voice from the drawing-room. 

"Polly,” called Aunt Retta, "with whom are you 
talking out there? It sounds just like George.” 

"Come on,” laughed Polly. "There’s no getting 
out of it now! I’ll back you up, Georgy-Porgy.” 

But this time Polly was not as good as her word. 
For as they went through the back hall the telephone 
bell rang, and George had to go on alone, while Polly 
stopped to answer it. 

"Oh, hello Neddie,” she said. "Yes, I remember 
about tomorrow— Oh, it’s all off?—You’ve what?— 
Found you promised somebody else?—Oh, Alice!— 
Of course, it’s all right. I’m not sure that I could 
go anyway— Oh, for goodness sakes, don’t explain, 
Neddie! What do I care— Why, of course I don’t 
mind. Why should I? I think it’s awfully nice of 
you to take Allie. She sits around with her grand¬ 
father so much she’s going into a dry rot— No, I 
didn’t say that— Alice is all right, only— Oh, Ned¬ 
die, you make me tired.” And Polly hung up the re¬ 
ceiver with a click. As she did so, the back door bell 
rang. 

It proved to be Jennie, come, as usual, to prepare 
the supper. She and Polly had long been the best 
of friends and Polly lingered a few minutes in the 



POLLY HEARS AN EXPLANATION 


193 


kitchen to hear about Jennie’s latest difficulties with 
her young man. 

"Why do you bother with him, Jen?” said Polly. 

It TT J • JJ 

Lie s a nuisance. 

"Yes,” admitted Jennie, "I know you can’t count 
on any of ’em, but they’re that wheedlin’.” 

"Well, don’t let him wheedle,” said Polly. 

"I’m not the manager you are, Polly,” replied 
Jennie, shaking her head. 

"I don’t know about that,” remarked Polly over 
her shoulder, as, remembering George, she went 
through the kitchen door. 

George and Mabel! Neddie and Alice! Well, it 
was all a good joke. Since George’s explanation about 
the letter, the world seemed suddenly a jolly place 
again. 

At the drawing-room door Polly paused, arrested 
by what she saw. For George was sitting cosily on 
the little sofa between Aunt Retta and Aunt Nell, 
his ruddy youth making them look older and frailer 
than ever, and Aunt Retta was handing him a ten- 
dollar bill, which she had evidently just taken from 
her bag. How on earth had Georgy-Porgy managed 
that in ten minutes! "You can’t count on ’em,” were 
the words that flashed through Polly’s mind, "but 
they’re that wheedlin’.” Well, it was true that, next 
to herself, nobody knew how to wheedle Aunt Retta 
like George. 


194 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"Go down to your boat now, George,” Aunt Retta 
was saying in her firm, managing voice, "and get 
your things. Polly will make up the guest-room bed, 
and you can have a good night’s sleep and get an 
early start in the morning.” 

Polly looked on in high amusement while George 
cheerfully kissed both his aunts and jumped up from 
the sofa. 

"You’ve been swell, Aunt Retta,” he said enthusi¬ 
astically. "I won’t forget it. And I’ll see that you 
have the money back.” 

Polly preceded George to the front door and opened 
it for him. 

"Don’t let that ten dollars go to your head, now,” 
she admonished. 

"You’d better not bother to make up the bed,” 
said George in a low voice. "It’s early yet, and I 
might go on to Boothbay.” 

"You mean you’re not coming back, rascal, after 
all this frenzied finance?” said Polly, searching him 
with her black eyes. "What’s at Boothbay? Mabel?” 

"The big yacht’s there,” admitted George, "and 
they might run me through to Portland. I could 
send for the boat later, you know.” 

"Well of all the unregenerate scamps!” said Polly, 
following him out under the portico. "I have a no¬ 
tion to take poor Aunt Retta’s ten dollars away from 
you this minute.” 

"Oh, I need that,” said George, clamping his hands 


POLLY HEARS AN EXPLANATION 


195 


over his pockets, and running down the front steps. 
"S’long, Polly. I’ll be seeing you.” 

"Give my love to Mabel!” called Polly, as George 
leaped over the gate, in his hurry to get away. 

Then she walked slowly into the house. But it 
was not her harum-scarum cousin who was upper¬ 
most in her thoughts. She was thinking that she would 
go straight to Aunt Retta, and say at last what she 
had been trying to say ever since the beginning of 
the summer. She was turning over in her mind just 
how she should begin when, as usual, Miss Henrietta 
took charge of the situation. 

"I am going upstairs to lie down, Polly,” said Aunt 
Retta, as her niece came into the hall, "but I wish 
that you would see that there is fresh water in those 
bowls of marigolds. There is a slight peculiar some¬ 
thing here in the drawing-room that neither Aunt 
Nell nor I can make out but that is very unpleasant.” 

Polly looked in at the door, then hastily turned 
her face away and walked into the south parlor on 
the other side of the hall. For Aunt Retta, her aris¬ 
tocratic Stebbins nose sniffing delicately, was bending 
over on her crutches in front of her most elegant 
Chippendale chair! 



Chapter Fifteen 

A REFUSAL 

W hen Aunt Retta and Aunt Nell had gone up¬ 
stairs to take their afternoon naps, Polly 
moved restlessly about from one room to the other, 
unable to settle herself at anything. It would be an 
hour before she could have her interview with Aunt 
Retta, and for Polly, when she had definitely made 
up her mind, waiting was always intolerable. 

She straightened out the music on the piano in 
the south parlor, and picked up Aunt Nell’s sewing- 
silk, which Isaak Walton had playfully unraveled 
under the table. Then she changed the water in the 


196 




























A REFUSAL 


197 


bowls of marigolds on the drawing-room mantel, as 
Aunt Retta had directed. When she put them back, 
she lingered for a few moments, studying the minia¬ 
ture of little Eleanor which stood on the mantel be¬ 
low Great-grandmother’s portrait. In spite of the 
thick fair hair, which was Eric’s, little Eleanor did 
suggest Debby. "A real Stebbins face, like Great¬ 
grandmother’s,” Aunt Retta had declared at once 
with satisfaction. Polly looked up at the dark loveli¬ 
ness of the countenance in the frame above, then 
back at the fair child of the miniature. What was the 
Stebbins face? Aunt Nelly had said once that beauty 
came from living with fine thoughts. Was that what 
made Great-grandmother and little Eleanor alike, just 
generations of fine thoughts? 

Polly turned from the mantel and looked around 
at the beautiful old room, filled with things used and 
cherished by so many Stebbins, and haunted now by 
the delicate, sharp scent of the marigolds. All at once 
she remembered how Debby had stood there, in front 
of Great-grandmother’s portrait, on the morning of 
her wedding day and looked with a strange intentness 
at it all. Polly, not yet thirteen, had thought only that 
Debby, standing there, was the most beautiful person 
in the world, but now her sister’s words came back 
to her: "Oh Pollykins,” Debby had said impulsively, 
catching sight of her little sister in the doorway, "I 
don’t want to forget a bit of it. Something lives in 
this room—something fine—and we mustn’t lose it— 


198 


LET POLLY DO IT 


ever!” Now Polly knew it too. It would hurt, of 
course, to give up college, but this was home, this 
quiet room, haunted by something pungent, like the 
marigolds. She belonged here—surely it would not be 
so hard to stay with it all for another year, that is, if 
one were true to the fine intangible thing—the Steb- 
bins thing that lived in this old room. 

Polly, not often given to meditation, was brought 
back to the realities of the moment by the sound of 
a car coming to a stop with creaking brakes. Walk¬ 
ing over to the window that looked toward Zab’s, 
she saw the Daggett truck standing in front of the 
Eatons’, and Zab himself just getting out of it. 
Herman Daggett was at the wheel, and as soon as 
Zab had alighted, the truck rumbled away again. 
What was Zabbie at home so early for? Polly saw 
him hesitate in front of the house and take a few 
steps toward the Stebbins mansion. Oh dear, was he 
coming over? Somehow, she did not feel like Zabbie 
just now. All that she wanted was to go to Aunt 
Retta at the first possible moment. 

Polly stepped back from the window, so that Zab 
should not see that she was there but he had already 
turned to go into his own house, thank goodness. She 
walked back across the hall to the south parlor, and 
picking up a book, sat down in a chair by the window. 
She must stay where she could hear the very first 
sound of Aunt Retta’s crutches on the floor above. 
But she found that she could not read. Her mind 


A REFUSAL 


199 


seemed as restless as her body, full of odd thoughts, 
and a half-regretful eagerness for what she had to do. 
Besides, it was altogether contrary to Polly’s usual 
active habits, to be sitting quietly indoors, reading a 
book, on a pleasant afternoon, and her eyes were upon 
the window rather than upon her page. 

That was why she saw her next caller at the very 
moment that his foot touched the gravel of the walk, 
Zabbie, alas, coming after all, and to the front door! 
This almost never happened, for Zab was still ridicu¬ 
lously in awe of the Stebbins mansion. Polly re¬ 
membered just how scared he had looked that day, 
long ago, when he had rung the front door-bell with 
a basket of quinces from his mother for Aunt Nell, 
and that other awful occasion when he had had 
to stand under the portico, and apologize to Aunt 
Retta for having broken one of the drawing-room 
windows. What solemn business was sending Zabbie 
up the front walk now? 

"Hello,” said Polly, opening the screen door. 
"What’s up? And how do you happen to be home 
at this time of day, by the way? Haven’t been fired, 
have you?” 

"No,” said Zab, wiping his feet carefully, for he 
was still in his working clothes, "I got through a little 
early, so Herman ran me home on his way to Rock¬ 
land. I’ve got something for you, Polly.” 

This was so exactly what the twins had said when 
they had brought the wood-pussies earlier in the 


200 


LET POLLY DO IT 


afternoon that Polly grinned reminiscently. But Zab 
was very sober. He stood, ill-at-ease in the middle of 
the hall, evidently not knowing just how to go on. 

"Well?” said Polly. "What is it? Shall we go on 
into the shed?” 

"No,” said Zab, "let’s come in here.” And to 
Polly’s astonishment, he led the way into the south 
parlor. 

"A formal call, Zabbie?” smiled Polly. "Pray be 
seated.” And she herself sat down in the wing chair. 

But Zab continued to stand, hesitating and un¬ 
comfortable, his freckled face looking redder than 
ever above his blue shirt. Suddenly she saw that he 
was handing her a small note-book, which he had 
taken from his pocket. 

"I don’t know what this is, Polly,” he said awk¬ 
wardly. "It has my name on it, but I never saw it 
before. It seems to have your writing inside.” 

Polly, jumping up from the wing chair, took the 
little book quickly from Zab’s hand, and looked at 
it with a startled face. 

"Where did you get this?” she demanded sharply. 

"From those Gage kids,” replied Zab. 

"The twins?” said Polly, in an incredulous voice. 
"Where?” 

"They stopped me on the road, when I was going 
back with the truck,” explained Zab. 

"Oh,” said Polly, considering, her brows drawn 
together. "Over at the foot of West Hill?” 


A REFUSAL 


201 


“Yes,” said Zab. “They wanted a ride.” 

“But this was in my pocket,” continued Polly, 
staring, still mystified, at the little book. Suddenly 
her face cleared, “Oh yes,” she said, half to herself, 
“I remember now. My coat dropped into the road 
when the twins scrambled down from the car. It 
must have come out then, and they found it, the 
rascals.” 

There was a moment of silence, while Polly and Zab 
stood looking at each other. 

“But how did my name get on it?” said Zab. 

It was now Polly’s turn to look ill-at-ease and so 
strange was the effect that Zab was quite aghast. 

“/ put your name on it,” said Polly slowly. “I 
meant to tell you about it—only not quite yet. It’s 
yours.” And she held out the book to him. 

Zab took it mechanically and opened it, reading 
again, with almost unseeing eyes, what he had already 
read more than once. The little book contained a 
careful column of figures, showing profits in the 
kitten business, all entered in Polly’s clear, bold hand¬ 
writing, and the total, as Zab plainly saw, was almost 
$ 75 . 00 . 

“I don’t know what you mean, Polly,” he said in 
a low voice, fingering the book, and avoiding her 
eyes. 

“I mean just what I say, Zabbie,” said Polly, look¬ 
ing directly at him, her momentary confusion gone. 
“It’s for you. I’ve kept out some for myself, it’s in 


202 


LET POLLY DO IT 


another book. I meant from the start that you should 
be a sort of partner, only I wanted it for a surprise 
at the end of the summer . 55 

"You mean, you want me to take the money you’ve 
saved ? 55 said Zab, frowning in his effort fully to take 
in this revelation. 

"Of course,” said Polly, a bit impatiently. "That’s 
the reason I began the cat business in the first place, 
so that there would be money to help you to go to 
Agricultural School. I know it’s not a lot, but it’s 
something. I suppose I should have told you before,” 
she added, seeing the uncomprehending look on Zab’s 
face, "but I wanted to be sure I could make a go it it.” 

Suddenly Zab raised his head. 

"Say, Polly,” he said, smiling at her—and it was 
as if for the first time she noticed how friendly a smile 
it was—"that was sure swell of you! I can’t tell how 
it makes me feel—your thinking of me that way. I 
always have wanted to be partners with you, Polly, 
but sometimes it seemed as if you thought I was not 
smart enough. I liked helping with the kittens, and 
I didn’t want any pay. Polly, I do think you’re great, 
and—” His voice wavered and he stopped. 

"Never mind about all that, Zabbie,” said Polly 
hurriedly, cutting him short. "We’re good pals, and 
I know you’d do as much for me. I don’t want any 
thanks, just take it.” 

"But I can’t take it, Polly,” said Zab, recovering 


A REFUSAL 


203 


himself, and now he looked at her with eyes that were 
very steady. 

"Whatever do you mean, Zabbie?” she said. "Of 
course you’ll take it.” 

"No,” said Zab, squaring his shoulders and seeming 
all at once quite different from the awkward boy 
who had long been her faithful retainer, "I can’t. 
Thanks just the same, Polly. It’s awfully good of 
you, but—well, men don’t take money from girls.” 
And as he spoke he quietly dropped the little book 
into the seat of the wing chair. 

"How absurd!” said Polly, staring at him in aston¬ 
ishment. "What difference can that make between 
you and me? Besides, you’ve earned it.” 

"No, I haven’t,” said Zab. "I’ve been over at the 
Daggetts’ for weeks, and you’ve gone it alone. I 
think you’ve done a bully job too, Polly.” 

"But you helped when you could,” she urged, 
ignoring the compliment, and determined to fight 
her cause to the last ditch. "I couldn’t have got along 
without all the crates you made, and those two long 
trips to Camden and Belfast.” 

"That wasn’t anything. It was fun working to¬ 
gether the way we always have.” And as he spoke 
Zab looked at her with eyes full of friendly good¬ 
will. 

"You’re a trump,” said Polly heartily, for, strangely 
enough, there had been nothing the least sentimental 


204 


LET POLLY DO IT 


in either Zab’s voice or look. "But indeed, indeed you 
must take it, Zabbie,” she added in despair, "or I shall 
feel that the summer has been a complete failure. 
Whatever shall I do with the money?” 

"You can always put it in the savings bank,” he 
said thriftily. "You’ll be glad some time that you 
have it.” 

"For my old age?” suggested Polly, the wicked 
suspicion of a twinkle in the corners of her eyes, al¬ 
though her face was quite sober. Had Zabbie for¬ 
gotten entirely the day when he had protested so 
ardently that she would not need to save for the 
future because they would be married and he should 
be taking care of her? She hoped to goodness he had 
forgotten—and yet! 

"You’re not mad about it, are you?” said Zab, who 
had missed the twinkle and saw before him only an 
unnaturally grave Polly. "We’re going on being 
friends just the same, aren’t we? You’ve always been 
one of my best friends, and always will be. You 
know that, don’t you, Polly?” 

"Yes, of course,” said Polly, a little wearily, and 
laughed. "You’ll let me give you a cat, any way, 
won’t you, Zabbie, as a pledge of friendship?” Then 
with a gesture of defeat she picked up the account 
book from the wing chair, and thrust it into a table 
drawer, out of sight. "Have you decided about Agri¬ 
cultural School, Zabbie?” she enquired, as if closing 
the drawer upon their disagreement. 


A REFUSAL 


205 


"I don’t think I’ll go,” he said slowly, "not this 
year. You see, Mr. Daggett is almost sure he can keep 
me on for the winter at half pay. The work’s awfully 
jolly and I’m learning a lot and I can save ever so 
much for next year. Truly, I don’t mind a bit not 
going this fall.” 

"Oh, don’t you?” said Polly, feeling very flat. 

It was all curiously stiff, as if they were strangers 
meeting for the first time. Now Zab glanced at the 
clock on the mantel. 

"Well, I’ll be getting along,” he said, taking a step 
or two toward the door. But he turned again, "You’ve 
been a downright brick, Polly,” he said holding out 
his hand. "I shan’t ever forget.” Then he strode 
quickly out of the room and was gone. 

For a minute after the screen door had snapped 
behind Zab Polly stood very still. Was it a ridiculous 
dream that a moment before she had been stiffly 
shaking hands with Zabbie—Z abbie —in the middle 
of the south parlor! Never in her life had she felt 
so baffled, even a little stunned. Was it really Zab 
who had been standing there before her, telling her 
that he could not accept her money and her help— 
Zab, who for so many years had been her willing 
subject, taking from her hand whatever she chose to 
give. His amazing words still echoed through her 
mind, "Thank you just the same, Polly. It’s awfully 
good of you but men don’t take money from girls.” 
His voice had trembled a little, to be sure, but there 



206 


LET POLLY DO IT 


had been a note of finality in it that Polly had recog¬ 
nized at once. 

Even more amazing than his words, however, had 
been Zab himself. What he had said had not sounded 
funny in the least, as Polly somehow felt that it 
should have. Zab really had looked like a man for the 
first time, his slouching shoulders squared with a sort 
of dignity, his large awkward hands clasped quietly 
behind him. For a moment he had seemed fully as 
old as she, perhaps even a little older, with a touch of 
that mastery that every Stebbins admired in a man. 
It had made Polly feel strangely speechless and it 
astonished her now to recall how little she had been 
able to say before he had turned on his heel and was 
gone. But what had he been in such a hurry about 
in the end, thought Polly, as if he were actually eager 
to get away from her? What on earth could he be 
going to do so late in the afternoon? 

With a sudden impulse, Polly walked over to the 
window and looked out at the road. There was Zab’s 
red head and blue shirt bobbing along on the other 
side of the hedge, but he was going down the hill 
toward the village, instead of back toward his own 
house. Moreover, he was walking as fast as he could 
without actually running. Polly watched with inter¬ 
est. Once, halfway down the hill, Zab glanced swiftly 
over his shoulder. Polly was not sure whether or not 
he saw her at the window, for she stepped quickly 
back, but it seemed to her that for a minute he walked 


A REFUSAL 


207 


with a less eager haste. Then, just as he came to the 
foot of the hill, a most surprising thing happened. 

Suddenly, from the old weather-beaten summer¬ 
house at the edge of the Stebbins place, appeared the 
figure of a girl in a bright red dress, who went swiftly 
toward Zab. It was Ethel Daggett! Polly, frozen 
at the window, saw them meet, saw Zab, who must 
suppose himself hidden by the intervening bushes, 
put his hands on Ethel’s shoulders and look down 
into her face, saw them going off, hand in hand, 
toward the field, the world and Polly apparently well 
forgotten. 

So that was it, said Polly to herself. That was why 
Zab was so reconciled to putting off the Agricultural 
School and working at the dairy farm for a year! 
That was where he had been so many times when she 
had wanted him. Fascinated and a little dazed, she 
watched the two figures, so utterly absorbed in each 
other, walking over the distant meadow. How exactly 
like Ethel Daggett to come to a trysting-place in a 
bright red dress! Suddenly the whole familiar land¬ 
scape began to look a little queer to Polly, for there 
in the middle of it was her Zabbie, going away like 
that, after all these years, with somebody else. Polly 
caught her breath, with an odd pang, for somehow she 
knew that the old Zabbie that she had always known 
and managed would never come back. 



Chapter Sixteen 

POLLY MEASURES UP 

V ery sober, Polly stood there for many minutes, 
staring out of the window. Did one always have 
this queer lonesome feeling when things came to an 
end? Suddenly Polly shook her head and laughed 
aloud. She must take care, or she would soon be 
sentimental herself. That is what they were, men, 
just a lot of sentimental geese—Zab and Neddie and 
George. George! Why she had forgotten that inter¬ 
view since her scene with Zab. But now thoughts of 
the other events of this extraordinary afternoon came 
rushing back. Her slate was clean—the letter to 
Debby had never gone at all! And surely Aunt Retta 


208 






















POLLY MEASURES UP 


209 


must be up from her nap by this time. With a re¬ 
newed sense of being set free, Polly turned from the 
window and walked quickly across the room. Not 
another moment should be lost! 

As she came into the hall she could hear the familiar 
sound of crutches overhead. Two steps at a time, 
Polly ran up the stairs and along the hall to Aunt 
Retta’s door, an odd elation in her heart. She rapped 
quickly and at the sound of Miss Henrietta’s voice, 
turned the knob and went in. 

Aunt Retta, in her black afternoon dress, her white 
hair freshly arranged on her handsome head, was 
standing on one crutch by the four-poster, bending 
slightly forward, as she poked about under the valance 
with the other. In the easy chair by the window lay 
a bit of knitting, a strand of the wool running across 
the floor and under the bed. Aunt Retta looked up 
as Polly entered. 

"That ball is bewitched,” she said, poking vainly. 
"It acts like a live thing.” 

Polly walked at once over to the bed, and lifting 
the valance, quickly retrieved the wool. But Aunt 
Retta continued to poke. 

"There’s something else under there,” she an¬ 
nounced, "Every time I touch it it bounces away. 
If I didn’t know that I was on my last one, I should 
say that it was another ball.” 

Polly got down on her hands and knees and looked. 
Then, making herself as flat as possible, she reached 


210 


LET POLLY DO IT 


under the bed. When she stood up she held in her 
arms a small black and white kitten, very ruffled and 
frightened. 

"How many more times, Polly,” said Aunt Retta, 
"shall I have to tell you that I will not have those 
cats in the house? This is the second time in a week 
that I have found one of them under my bed, and I 
simply cannot have it happen again.” 

"Fm sorry,” said Polly cheerfully, determined that 
nothing, this time, should thwart her purpose with 
Aunt Retta. "I do my best, but they all seem to have 
such an amazing affection for you, you know!” And 
Polly smiled her most irresistible smile at Aunt Retta. 

But Miss Henrietta was not to be beguiled. 

"I have been wanting for some time to talk to you 
about those cats, Polly,” she continued, the little hard 
line around her mouth, that was always there when 
she was annoyed. 

Polly, still standing by the bed, with the frightened 
kitten snuggling against her neck, felt that she had, 
after all, chosen a most inauspicious moment for her 
interview. Perhaps Aunt Retta was having more 
trouble than usual with her hip. A twinge, as of 
pain, flickered indeed for a moment across the stern 
face, as Miss Henrietta turned back toward her chair, 
the ball of wool in her hands. Polly quickly pulled 
the chair nearer, and took the crutches, helping her 
aunt to sit down. When Miss Henrietta was settled 
with her knitting, she looked up, and Polly felt, with 


POLLY MEASURES UP 


211 


a sudden pang, that she had never seen Aunt Retta 
quite so white and drawn. She seemed smaller than 
usual too, in the depths of the big chair, surrounded 
by the massive furniture of the high old room, and 
with the strong late afternoon sunlight streaming 
in through the long windows. More than ever Polly 
wished for Debby. But when Aunt Retta spoke, it 
was with her usual spirit. 

”1 feel that this cat business has gone about far 
enough, Polly,” she said with decision. "You have 
never been able to keep them confined to the shed. 
Only Monday one of them got into the clam chowder 
on the kitchen table. And besides, I have never liked, 
as you know, having the Stebbins door-bell rung by 
every Tom, Dick and Harry who happens to want a 
chance to look inside a Stebbins door.” 

"Izaak Walton helped with the chowder,” said 
Polly quickly, rubbing her cheek against the kitten. 
"And Tom, Dick and Harry, have never seen 
anything more exalted than the inside of a Stebbins 
shed.” 

"Your tongue is still a little too ready, Polly,” 
said Miss Henrietta, her brows very level. 

"I’m sorry, Aunt Retta,” said Polly again, biting 
her lip. How utterly impossible it was ever to get 
started with Aunt Retta. 

There was a moment of tense silence. Then the 
door opened, and Miss Eleanor came in. It seemed 
to Polly that she too looked unusually white and 


212 


LET POLLY DO IT 


frail, standing in her gray muslin dress in the bright 
light of the room. Oh, how had she ever considered 
leaving them alone, these two, in this great house? 

"Are you ready to go downstairs, sister?” said 
Aunt Nell quietly, looking in faint surprise from 
Aunt Retta to Polly. 

"No,” said Miss Henrietta, but her voice was al¬ 
ready less determined. It was odd, thought Polly, 
how Aunt Nelly always managed to calm troubled 
waters, by just coming serenely into a room. "Sit 
down a minute, Eleanor,” continued Aunt Retta, "I 
have just been telling Polly that I am sick and tired 
of having our home turned into a cattery, with the 
hoi polloi going in and out of our doors. The Steb- 
bins mansion has never been used to that sort of 
thing.” 

"Polly has built up a nice little business,” said 
Aunt Nell, smiling across the room at her niece. It 
flashed over Aunt Nell that she had never seen 
Polly look quite so mature before—yes, even a little 
pretty, with the deep color in her cheeks, and the 
angles of her slim, alert figure softened, as she drooped, 
for once a little wearily, against the high post of the 
bed. Perhaps, thought Aunt Nell, Polly would yet 
be a handsome woman. 

"Well, be that as it may,” said Aunt Retta decid¬ 
edly, "I can see no reason for going on with it any 
longer. In three weeks Polly will be ready to start 
for college, and she might as well begin now to put 


POLLY MEASURES UP 


213 


her affairs in order. I am sure I am not going to be 
left with a shed full of cats.” 

There was silence for a moment. Through the long 
window across the room Polly could see the fields 
that rolled away to the little house, now gleaming 
white in the sunset, to which Randall would soon be 
coming back. And far away, beyond that little house 
and the woods and hills was college where she and 
Randall were to have worked this winter—together. 
Until this moment she had never fully realized what 
it would mean to give up Sanbornville. 

"I am not going to college,” said Polly suddenly, 
taking the kitten from her face, and looking directly 
at Aunt Retta. 

"What!” exclaimed Miss Henrietta, dropping her 
knitting into her lap. 

"I have decided,” continued Polly steadily, "that 
if you and Aunt Nell do not mind, I will put off 
going until next year.” 

"Why on earth should you do that?” said Aunt 
Retta, looking at Polly in astonishment. "You are 
all ready, and everything is arranged. I don’t like 
changes at the last moment.” 

"The money is in the bank, you know, Polly,” said 
Aunt Nell, her gentle face full of perplexity. "You 
are not thinking of that, are you?” 

"No,” said Polly, "but—but I think I should like to 
take some extra courses at the Academy first—in 


science. 


214 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"It’s that young Gage fellow who has put these ideas 
into your head,” said Aunt Retta. "When a plan 
has been definitely made, I don’t care to have out¬ 
siders interfering with it.” 

"Randall Gage has nothing whatever to do with 
my staying at home,” said Polly hotly. "And I wish, 
Aunt Retta—” She paused and made a strong effort 
at self-control. "And I wish, Aunt Retta,” she 
finished, "that you and Aunt Nell would let me do 
it.” And Polly turned toward Aunt Nelly with a 
pleading look that was utterly foreign to those dark, 
sharp eyes. 

Aunt Nell, from her side of the room, was look¬ 
ing searchingly at her niece. 

"We shall be quite all right here,” she said quickly, 
with her usual sure intuition. "We shall arrange to 
have Jennie come in for an extra day, and if—if one 
of us should not be well, we can always keep her 
over night. You must not give up college for us on 
any account, Polly.” 

"I think I would rather not go away,” said Polly, 
throwing back her head, with a little stiff determined 
gesture that reminded Aunt Nell of Debby when 
she had faced hard decisions, "not—just now. Next 
year I shall be eighteen, and that is a better age for 
college.” 

Then she turned abruptly and walked toward the 
door, the kitten still in her arms. Before she reached 


POLLY MEASURES UP 


215 


it, however, Miss Henrietta spoke in an oddly altered 
voice. 

"Come here, Polly,” said Aunt Retta. 

Polly stopped, and looked back at Aunt Retta in 
surprise. Miss Henrietta had put her knitting down 
beside her, and was getting up a little uncertainly 
from her chair. Both Polly and Aunt Nell sprang 
to help her, but Miss Henrietta raised her hand, as if 
to hold them away. Then, as Polly stood before 
her— 

"You are a real Stebbins,” said Aunt Retta. "I am 
proud of you.” And suddenly, with a mouth that 
trembled, she leaned forward and kissed Polly on the 
cheek. 

It was, perhaps, the first moment of real emotion 
that had ever passed between these two, both so 
averse to any show of sentiment. Polly turned again, 
without a word, and went as quickly as she could 
from the room, shutting the door upon what was both 
oddly sweet and intolerable. The sight of those trem¬ 
bling lips on Aunt Retta’s face—Aunt Retta’s!— 
was not to be borne. Emotion was terribly upsetting, 
thought Polly. It tired one so. Never had there been 
so much in one day in the Stebbins mansion. It just 
did not pay, and she was not going to let herself 
feel another emotion for a long time. But in this 
Polly was very much mistaken! 

Well, it was settled anyhow, she said to herself, 


216 


LET POLLY DO IT 


as she went along the hall with the kitten, and she 
was glad, in spite of the dreary ache that she felt 
within her. Now all that she had to do was to tell 
Randall when he came back that they should not see 
each other this year at Sanbornville. Randall would 
understand, as he always did, in his jolly, matter-of- 
fact way. Then all at once she remembered how he 
had looked on that never-to-be-forgotten riiorning 
in the woods when she had first told him that she 
might give up college. She saw his face again as 
he had turned to her then, with something in his 
eyes that had startled her. Would it be like that 
this time, or had he already engaged the other girl 
for the laboratory? As she went slowly downstairs 
with the kitten there was, in spite of the uncertainty 
and disappointment, an odd sense of peace in Polly’s 
heart. For the first time in weeks everything seemed 
clear and fair, with straight sailing ahead. And 
though she must give up so much if she were to stay 
at home, at least she would not have to give up the 
kittens. She put her cheek against the soft fur in 
her arms and opened the shed door. 

At once, from every side in the dusk, her little 
friends came scampering to meet her. Polly sat down 
on the floor, while they crowded around, arching 
their small backs and rubbing their little purring 
selves against her hands and knees. Cats were a com¬ 
fort, thought Polly, soothed in spite of herself by 
their gentle, unemotional affection. Zab had once 


POLLY MEASURES UP 


217 


said something about her being rather like a cat 
herself, except that she did not purr often enough! 
Zab—think of his spurning her help, and going off 
with that foolish Ethel Daggett, holding hands —her 
Zabbie! Polly smiled. She was beginning already to 
feel more like herself than she had felt for weeks, a 
jolly, free feeling of having dropped a burden. To¬ 
morrow, the first thing in the morning, she would 
go over to Zab’s, and tell him that, since they were 
both going to be at home this next year, they could 
use the money to enlarge the cat business and he 
might perhaps find time to be a real partner. Aunt 
Retta could be managed and maybe they could even 
get Ethel to help! Polly grinned widely as she thought 
of this. Then she got up briskly from the floor, and 
pushing the kittens away, slipped through the shed 
door. It must be time to help Aunt Nelly with the 
supper. 

But Aunt Nell was not in the kitchen, although 
the fragrance of tea biscuit came from the oven, and 
a jar of quince jam was set out on the table. How 
Randall had loved the quince jam the night that he 
had come to supper, and how disapproving Aunt 
Retta had looked when Polly had insisted that he 
should finish up all that was left in the dish! But 
she must forget Randall now as fast as possible. In 
spite of that morning in the woods and the postal 
card, Polly felt in her heart that he was not likely 
to remember her , once he was back at Sanbornville 


218 


LET POLLY DO IT 


among the real college girls—and the one that was 
to help him. Well, what if he didn’t? There were 
plenty of things left in life. Nevertheless it was a 
sober Polly who again opened the door and went 
swiftly into the front hall. 

. But with the knob still in her hand, Polly was sud¬ 
denly brought up short by what she saw before her. 
For the screen of the front door was partly ajar, and 
standing in the opening was a strange and lovely 
little girl, hardly more than a baby with fair fly¬ 
ing hair and dainty white frock. She was peering 
with questioning eyes, into the dim hall, but as soon 
as she saw Polly she smiled and stepped, a little shyly, 
inside the screen. 

'Tm Nelly ’Tebby Annerson,” said the child, with 
surprising distinctness for one so small. *T think 
you’re my Aunt Polly, and I like you.” 

Then Polly, spell-bound for a moment, was con¬ 
scious of another figure at the screen door and, look¬ 
ing up, ran forward with a glad cry. 

For it was Debby! 



Chapter Seventeen 

POLLY CAN DO IT 

P ollykins!” cried Debby, holding her sister at 
arm’s length, and looking at her with the brown 
eyes that Polly remembered so well. "Why didn’t 
somebody tell me how nice you are! Why, you’re 
lovely!” 

"And you,” laughed Polly, her own eyes on the 
charming face under the brown traveling hat, "you’re 
—you’re just the same.” 

"But Aunt Retta and Aunt Nell?” said Debby, 
suddenly sober. "Tell me quickly—are they better? 
Is everything all right?” 

"Why—yes,” said Polly, surprised at these breath¬ 
less questions. "Except that Aunt Retta was in bed 
for a while after she fell and hurt her hip again. You 
see—she broke it last winter.” 

"Oh Polly!” cried Debby, aghast, "How dreadful! 
Why didn’t you write?” 

"Aunt Retta wouldn’t let me,” said Polly; then 
added reassuringly. "She is up and around, and 
comes downstairs every day.” 

219 







220 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"Where are they now?” said Debby, all impatience. 
"Shall we go to them right away?” 

"They’re in Aunt Retta’s room,” said Polly. "Come 
on.” 

With little Eleanor between them, they went as 
fast as they could up the long flight. But Aunt 
Retta and Aunt Nell, forewarned by the voices which 
they had heard below, had hurried, startled and be¬ 
wildered, into the upper hall. They stood there now, 
white with astonishment, gazing down the stairway. 

"But why, why didn’t I know about all this?” said 
Debby, looking with troubled eyes at the crutches, 
when the first greetings over, she stood with one hand 
in Aunt Nelly’s, the other on Aunt Retta’s shoulder. 

"It is of no consequence now,” said Aunt Retta, 
in a voice still trembling from the shock of sudden 
relief and joy. But, as she spoke, her eyes were not 
on Debby, but on little Eleanor, who, close beside 
her mother, looked soberly up at this awe-inspiring 
new relative. "She is a Stebbins!” declared Aunt 
Retta, in triumph. 

"Yes,” said Aunt Nell, holding out her hand to 
little Eleanor and smiling. And little Eleanor smiled 
back and put her hand into Aunt Nelly’s at once, 
as children always did. 

"But where is Eric?” said Polly. It was so wonder¬ 
ful to have Debby that Debby’s husband had been 
for the moment forgotten. 

"I came alone, with Eleanor,” said Debby. "Eric 


POLLY CAN DO IT 


221 


cannot get away from Rome until after Christmas. 5 ’ 

"But what brought you?” cried Polly. "Oh dear, 
I have so many questions that I don’t know where 
to begin!” 

"Let us go downstairs to the drawing-room,” said 
Aunt Retta, collecting herself, and turning in her 
usual positive way toward the stairs. "Then Deborah 
can tell us the whole story.” 

Five minutes later they were all seated together, 
Debby on the sofa between Polly and Aunt Nell, lit¬ 
tle Eleanor on Aunt Nelly’s lap, Aunt Retta directly 
opposite in the big Sheraton chair. How stately and 
beautiful she looked, thought Debby, and how ex¬ 
actly the same everything was—Great-grandmother 
in her frame, the old secretary, the porcelains, the 
tapestries—all except the crutches. Debby could not 
bear to look at those. 

"Why did you let all this time go by without writ¬ 
ing, Deborah?” said Miss Henrietta. "We have been 
very anxious.” But although she spoke coolly, Aunt 
Retta’s face, into which more than her usual color 
had come back, belied her voice. 

"Indeed, I am sorry, Aunt Retta,” said Debby. "We 
did not mean to worry you, but you see our plans 
have been all upset again.” As she spoke, her eyes 
turned quickly from Aunt Retta to Aunt Nell, then 
to Polly, as if she must make them all understand. 
"You see, we had another letter from the Museum,” 
she continued, "suggesting that it might be better for 


222 


LET POLLY DO IT 


Eric to come back in January, instead of in the 
spring, and we were waiting to be sure before writ¬ 
ing you, for we did not want you to be disappointed 
again, when the strangest thing happened. There 
had been such a nice professor and his wife in the 
pension with us—Americans—who had left their two 
boys at home, and were off on a sort of second honey¬ 
moon. He teaches art in some college, so we found 
we had things in common, and we saw a good deal 
of them. Then one day she came to me with a letter, 
which she had just received from her mother-in-law, 
and which she said had amused them so much that 
she just must read it to me. It seemed her two small 
boys had been in an escapade, as usual. She had said 
right along that they were a pair of imps, and alto¬ 
gether too much for their grandmother, with whom 
she had left them, so somebody had come in several 
times a week to look after them—a jolly sort of girl, 
whom the twins quite adored.” 

"What!” said Polly, turning upon Debby, whose 
eyes were full of their old sparkle. 

"Well,” continued Debby, laughing and ignoring 
Polly, "it seems that the twins had set their hearts 
upon seeing a good deal of this idol of theirs when 
she came next year to the college town where they 
lived, but one day they found out that she was not 
going to college after all, and somehow got the idea 
into their ridiculous heads that it was because she was 
afraid the president of the college might not like her! 


POLLY CAN DO IT 


223 


So what did they do but run away after dark, and 
start on a thirty mile walk, for the sole purpose of 
telling the president of the college that their adored 
Pol-” 

"Debby!” cried Polly, seizing her sister’s arm. '"Did 
you really meet the Gages? I should think you were 
making it all up except that of course it’s true!” 

"Yes,” said Debby, "wasn’t it amazing? It sounds 
like a plot out of a book.” 

"It is an odd coincidence,” said Miss Henrietta, a 
trifle impatiently, "although I cannot see that all this 
has anything to do with your coming home, Debo¬ 
rah.” 

"But it has, Aunt Retta,” said Debby, her face 
sobering. "Because Mrs. Gage’s letter went on to 
say, quite casually, that the twins had got things 
mixed, and that the real reason their Polly was not 
going to college was that her aunts were unwell, and 
she could not leave them alone. Of course we were 
terribly upset about all this,” Debby went on, "for 
you had let us know nothing about any ill health. 
Eric and I sat up half the night, talking about what 
we should do. One thing was clear from the start— 
I must go home to see how things were and to make 
sure that Pollykins did not give up college. So it was 
decided that Eleanor and I take the next steamer and 
that Eric come as soon as he can. We did not cable 
because we wanted to surprise you. So here we are— 
and that’s all.” And Debby gave both Aunt Nelly 



224 


LET POLLY DO IT 


and Polly a simultaneous squeeze, in her own im¬ 
pulsive way. 

What a tangled web it was, thought Polly, sitting 
there, as in a dream, with Debby’s arm about her. If 
she had not tried to help Zabbie she would not have 
collected cats, and if she had not collected cats she 
might not have met Randall, and if she had not met 
Randall she would not have known the twins, and if 
she had not known the twins they would never have 
gone on the nocturnal adventure which, in a round¬ 
about way, had brought Debby back. 

"I suppose, if I do go to college,” laughed Polly, 
"it will be because of those two precious rascals, 
though they never were able to tell their president 
how nice I really am!” 

"There is no 'if’ about it,” said Debby with deci¬ 
sion. "Eleanor and I are going to stay right here 
at the Stebbins mansion, while Pollykins goes off to 
make herself famous.” 

"We could have managed by ourselves,” said Aunt 
Retta, her head very erect, "but it will be a help 
and comfort to have you, Deborah.” And nobody 
but the three who heard these words could possibly 
have known what a concession they implied. 

"If Polly had only written how things were,” 
said Debby, "we should have planned this long ago.” 

"Polly is too much of a Stebbins not to carry on 
without complaint,” observed Miss Henrietta, a touch 
of pride in her voice. 


POLLY CAN DO IT 


225 


At these unexpected words, Polly, her brows drawn 
together, looked across at Aunt Retta in despair. 
But she was a Stebbins, and she could not sail under 
false colors. 

"I did write,” she said at once, in a low voice, "but 
—the letter was destroyed—accidentally.” 

Aunt Retta regarded Polly in uncomprehending 
surprise, but before she could open her lips again 
Aunt Nell spoke. 

"Polly always carries on,” she said quietly. "And 
she has told us today, what we have known all sum¬ 
mer, that she would not go away while we needed 
her. Polly has never failed us.” 

For almost the first time in her life Polly felt a 
dreadful lump in her throat, and rose hastily from 
the sofa. But the subject of the letter was not to be 
pursued, for at that moment little Eleanor, who had 
slid from Aunt Nelly’s lap, and had been tip-toeing 
about, examining all the strange new things, turned 
suddenly, and walked over to Aunt Retta. 

"Your room is very nice,” she said, with quaint 
distinctness, standing in front of the Sheraton chair. 
"I like it.” 

And then Aunt Retta did an astonishing thing. 
She leaned forward and lifted little Eleanor into her 
lap, with a gesture of complete possession. 

"She will stay with me,” said Miss Henrietta, her 
hand on the child’s fair head, "while Polly shows 
Debby to her room.” 


226 


LET POLLY DO IT 


"But first I must see Jennie,” said Debby, jumping 
up gaily. "Come, Pollykins, let's go exploring.” And, 
slipping her arm through her sister’s, she carried her 
off down the hall. 

They looked for a moment through the door of 
the little workshop. "How small it is, and dim!” said 
Debby, fresh from her sunny Italian studio. Then 
they went on into the big kitchen, where Jennie, 
overwhelmed, was waiting at the table. 

"Now you must see the Famous Cats,” said Polly, 
when Jennie had been left to wipe her eyes on the 
roller towel, and leading the way through the back 
hall, she opened the door to the shed. 

"Why, Polly, how wonderful,” cried Debby, stand¬ 
ing in the midst of the whirl of kittens. "Wherever 
did you get so many beauties?” 

"Just wait until you see Miss Pickett’s,” said Polly, 
peering about in the already dusky shed for her 
prize pussies. "Oh, there you are, one of you,” she 
cried, looking up at a low beam, where a small gray 
bunch was huddled in the shadows, mewing piteously. 

Pulling the big table under the beam, Polly jumped 
up on it. The kitten, however, in the perverse way 
of its kind, drew back from the rescuing hand, and 
Polly, her face turned from Debby, had just suc¬ 
ceeded at last in getting her hand on it, when the 
outer door of the shed opened, and there, silhouetted 
against the light, stood Randall Gage. 

"Hello,” he said, as if they had met only yesterday, 


POLLY CAN DO IT 


227 


and as if he had fully expected to find Polly up on a 
table. "The front of the house looked as if you had 
company, so I thought Fd try my luck around here. 
You don’t mind, do you?” 

"No,” said Polly, continuing to stand on the table, 
with the kitten in her arms, "of course not.” Then, 
half turning, "Oh, I want you to meet my sister.” 

But Debby was gone, vanished through the other 
door, in that moment when Polly had forgotten 
everything but Randall, forgotten even Debby— 
Debby! 

"When did you get back?” she said a little stiffly. 

"Oh, an hour or two ago,” said Randall, in a care¬ 
less voice, walking across the shad. "The twins said 
that you wanted to see me as soon as I arrived, so 
here I am.” 

"They did?” exclaimed Polly. "Well, I never told 
them anything of the sort.” 

"You mean you don’t want to?” observed Randall. 
It was too dark to see his eyes, but Polly knew ex¬ 
actly the amused expression that was there. 

"No,” said Polly promptly. Then as Randall raised 
his brows. "I mean I don’t want not to see you—I 
mean—oh, you crazy thing, of course I’m glad to 
see you!” And she grinned down at him in a way 
that left no doubt. 

"Did you say your sister was here?” he asked, 
grinning back. 

"Yes,” said Polly. "Isn’t it grand? She came this 



228 


LET POLLY DO IT 


afternoon, to stay for the whole winter. And what 
is more, she has met your brother and his wife in 
Rome!” 

"Oh, really?” said Randall, in his most uninterested 
voice. "So then I suppose you’ll be going to college 
after all,” he added, dismissing his relatives. 

Did he care whether she went or not? Why should 
he have asked her like that unless he did? 

"Yes, I suppose so,” said Polly, trying to make her 
own voice uninterested also. But she was quite un¬ 
prepared for his next remark. 

"Then what the deuce are you going to do with all 
these howling cats?” said Randall, looking around the 
shed, where many little kitten voices were talking 
about supper. 

"I’m thinking,” said Polly, with a funny twist at 
the corners of her mouth, "of trying to pass them 
over to Zab for the winter. I think he might take 
them on if he could have Ethel for a partner!” 

"What, that little-” began Randall. 

"Yes,” said Polly, "exactly.” 

They looked into each other’s eyes and laughed. 
My, but it was fun to be with somebody again who 
always caught the point before you had finished! 

"What about coming down where a fellow can 
see what you look like?” suggested Randall. 

"All right,” said Polly, passing him the kitten. 

Then he held out his hand, and to her own aston¬ 
ishment, Polly, who had never in her life been known 



POLLY CAN DO IT 


229 


to accept masculine assistance, put her own into it 
and jumped lightly down from the table. 

“You look very nice/’ said Randall, regarding her 
with something in his eyes that reminded her faintly 
of that summer morning in the woods. 

She turned quickly away. 

“Now you must come and meet my sister,” she 
said, walking toward the door. But just before she 
opened it, Randall stepped forward and put his hand 
upon the knob. 

“What about the laboratory?” he said, looking 
squarely at Polly. 

“Haven’t you filled the place?” she replied, look¬ 
ing squarely back at him. 

"You bet I haven’t,” he said, with astonishing 
vigor, “not if I can have you” 

And Polly knew at that moment that she should 
never doubt Randall again. 

“Of course you can,” she said and smiled, and felt 
all at once that she was being dreadfully sentimental. 
But more than that—and worse—she knew that she 
did not care! 

Then they went together to find Debby. 
























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